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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28207764">'Tis The Damn Season</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/chchchchcherrybomb/pseuds/chchchchcherrybomb'>chchchchcherrybomb</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Dear Evan Hansen - Pasek &amp; Paul/Levenson</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst with a Happy Ending, Casual slamming of conservative American politics, Christmas, Cis-heteropatriarchy making shit weird, Coming Out, Confusion, Exes, Fluff and Angst, Hijinks &amp; Shenanigans, Holidays, Homophobic Language, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, Miscommunication, Old Friends, Sibling Rivalry, Social Justice, Social Media, straight up not having a good time right now</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-11 00:22:34</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>32,647</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28207764</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/chchchchcherrybomb/pseuds/chchchchcherrybomb</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Evan Hansen and Connor Murphy have been together about a year, and Evan is completely smitten. He's got a ring and a plan to propose when Connor pops a question of his own: He asks Evan to come home with him for Christmas with his family. There's just one catch... Connor hasn't come out to his family yet. </p><p>Happiest Season AU.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Alana Beck &amp; Evan Hansen, Connor Murphy &amp; Cynthia Murphy, Connor Murphy &amp; Larry Murphy (Dear Evan Hansen), Connor Murphy &amp; Zoe Murphy, Evan Hansen &amp; Cynthia Murphy, Evan Hansen &amp; Larry Murphy (Dear Evan Hansen), Evan Hansen &amp; Miguel, Evan Hansen &amp; Zoe Murphy, Evan Hansen/Connor Murphy, Miguel (Dear Evan Hansen) &amp; Connor Murphy</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>80</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>128</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/cecropia/gifts">cecropia</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Look, I literally said I was not writing this. I literally genuinely said I would not and could not write this. </p><p>But then I started writing it and I'm not sorry. H, this is your fault.</p><p> </p><p>Also the title is from a Taylor Swift song because I'm just going to be trashy.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Evan Hansen has never felt like this. Happy like this.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s a bittersweet sort of happiness, but happiness nonetheless. It’s taken Evan a while to be okay again. Okay since his mom died when he was nineteen, just before he finished his first year of undergrad. It was sudden - she had an aneurysm that neither of them knew about, and it ruptured - and Evan had been devastated for years. He spent two years just kind of… wandering aimlessly through his life, unmoored because he didn’t know what he was doing anymore. But eventually, Evan managed to find a therapist to help him work through his grief. He went back to school, found some friends he connected with who encouraged his passion for environmental science. Now he’s twenty eight and three years into a PhD program. Now, he’s twenty eight and last year he met the love of his life. At Alana’s birthday party last year at the city’s oldest gay bar, not long before the holidays. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s a little bittersweet to think that if Evan’s mom hadn’t died suddenly, he might not have been at that party that night. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But that’s what happened. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He went to the party and met the love of his life. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Alana gives him shit for it, of course, because that’s who she is. “Assuming that that everyone only gets one great love in their life is such heterosexist garbage,” she tells Evan wisely over hot buttered rum at this dive bar they love. “You’re basically playing right into monogamist propaganda.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Evan shrugs. “I’m not </span>
  <em>
    <span>trying </span>
  </em>
  <span>to,” he tells her plainly. “It’s just that I </span>
  <em>
    <span>am </span>
  </em>
  <span>monogamous and I can’t imagine loving anyone else the way I love Connor.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Alana rolls her eyes, but she smiles at him and says she’s happy for him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s true of course. Evan can’t picture loving anyone else the way he loves Connor Murphy. They’ve been together for just over a year, and every single day Evan finds something new to love about him. He’s even grown to love the things about Connor that used to irritate him - like the hours long arguments Connor will have on the phone with his editor sometimes, quibbling about things like the Oxford comma or dangling participles. They used to make Evan feel ignored and frustrated. But now, Connor will look up at him and smile during the calls, or mouth “sorry” and mime shooting himself, and Evan knows he’d rather be spending time together. And it’s all okay.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Because Connor is just… great. He’s got the best, weirdest sense of humor. He’s never weird about Evan’s moods or anxiety. He just asks what he can do. And he’s so affectionate, all of the time. He’s always squeezing Evan’s hand or kissing him on the cheek just because. Sometimes he’ll drag Evan’s laptop away and sit on him until he agrees it’s time for a break. So when he asked Evan if he wanted to move in six months ago, Evan was more than happy to leave his tiny studio behind and move all of his plants into Connor’s cozy apartment. So far it’s been… perfect. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Which is why he’s made a plan. A goofy, overly romantic plan. He’s proposing. At midnight on New Year’s Eve. He can’t think of a better way to kick off a new year than by solidifying his life with Connor together. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The weeks before the holidays are busy for Evan. It’s finals, which means Evan is up to his eyes in papers to grade and assignments of his own to submit. And Connor is busy too - writing holiday gift guides and articles slamming Amazon for horrible working conditions and Jeff Bezos for not ending world hunger, arguing more with his editor because his final manuscript is due back to the publisher by January. They’re busy and stressed and Evan’s wondering if he’s gotten the timing wrong with his little proposal plan when Connor looks at him on a Saturday afternoon and says, “Let’s do something tonight.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Something” turns out to be drinks with Alana at their favorite dive which turns into karaoke at this gay bar they love. Connor and Alana duet an enthusiastic cover of “Baby, It’s Cold Outside,” and then Alana refuses to relinquish the mic when she’s done, talking about outdated sexual morals and how in modern times, implied sexual consent is a huge red flag. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They part ways not long after that. Evan and Connor hold hands as they walk toward home, cutting through this square not far from the bar that the city fills with holiday lights and decorations each year, giggling and a little tipsy. It’s cold, but Evan feels warm and content with Connor’s gloved hand in his as they wind their way through the lights, frost and the remains of the first snow of the year crunching beneath their feet. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you like the holidays?” Connor asks him suddenly. “It always seems to make you…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Anxious. Edgy. Tired. “Yeah,” Evan admits. “I think it’s because, you know. Growing up it was just me and my mom, and she’d usually get roped into working to cover people’s shifts because we needed the money. She always made a big deal out of Christmas and Hanukkah, even if she was busy. But since she’s not around anymore…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Connor frowns. “I hate that I never got to meet her.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Evan hates it too. His mom would have adored Connor. And, Evan thinks, Connor would have adored his mom. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They walk a little while longer. “It must be so hard. Missing her.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Evan nods. “Yeah. But, you know, pet sitting has its perks. Everyone always leaves me cookies, and I get to hang out with puppies.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“When we find a bigger place. I’m absolutely getting you a dog,” Connor says firmly. “A huge one. I’m talking Clifford huge.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Evan smiles at the idea. “I love it. He would definitely make a more environmentally friendly ride to work.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“See? It’s going to be great.” Connor pulls Evan close and kisses him softly. Evan melts into the kiss, wrapping his arms around Connor and sort of letting himself get swept up into the… Hallmark movie of it all. It’s beautiful outside, and he’s kissing the best person alive, and it’s almost Christmas. That’s some cheesy nonsense right there, but with Connor, Evan actually… likes it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I hate that we’re not going to see each other this week,” Connor says softly, resting his forehead against Evan’s. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re going to be with your family,” Evan replies. “And I’ll get to hang out with so many dogs.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Connor kisses him again. “You could come with me,” He says when he pulls away. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Evan blinks in surprise. He hasn’t met Connor’s family yet. Connor has described their relationship as “not estranged, exactly” and said he and his family love each other best from a distance, so Evan’s never pushed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You want me to come to your family’s Christmas?” Evan says. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes,” Connor says. “I want you there. I don’t want to spend a week apart.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But what about the cats and dogs?” Evan protests weakly, even though his heart is already sort of fluttering at the idea of it. Christmas with the Murphys. Christmas surrounded by people, not walking packs of dogs alone and trying to figure out which Chinese places still deliver. Not lonely or boring, but… warm. Happy. Affectionate. Like Connor. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Get somebody to cover you,” Connor says, kissing his cheek. “Please? I want you there. I really, really want you there.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Evan smiles brightly. “Okay.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Really?” Connor says, his face breaking into this bright smile that makes his eyes crinkle. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, I’ll make it happen.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Connor kisses him and hugs him tightly and Evan feels something warm he hasn’t felt in a long time flood through him. Connor’s his family, and he’s going to spend the holidays with him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>That’s wonderful.</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>The next morning, Evan wakes up to find Connor’s long limbs surrounding him the way he usually does. He has some work he needs to submit this week, so he rubs his nose against Connor’s gently and then wriggles out of bed. He sleepily heads to the kitchen, his brain a sluggish repeat of </span>
  <em>
    <span>coffee need coffee </span>
  </em>
  <span>while he goes about making a pot. When he’s a little bit more awake, Evan sits down at the breakfast bar and opens his laptop. Sips his coffee while he thinks about the work he needs to do this week. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And then he remembers, this warmth rushing through him. Connor wants him to come to Christmas. And Evan smiles, almost shyly despite the fact that he’s all alone in the kitchen, at the idea of finally getting to meet Connor’s people and of actually getting to spend the holidays doing something other than feeling sorry for himself and playing fetch with Dana’s schnauzer. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Evan taps out a quick text to Alana. </span>
</p><p>
  <b>I need a favor.</b>
</p><p>
  <span>The reply is instant: </span>
</p><p>
  <b>No. </b>
</p><p>
  <span>But then a moment later, Evan’s phone is ringing. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay, maybe that was hasty… what’s the favor?” Alana asks. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Evan grins. “You’re staying in town for the holidays, right?” Evan asks her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, my dad’s coming into town. Why? Finally going to take me up on my offer to take you to church with us?” She’s already asked him. Three times. Evan keeps saying no. He doesn’t want to be someone’s pity date - and definitely not to a Baptist church on Christmas. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well… Connor invited me to go with him to his family’s place for Christmas,” Evan says, that stupid happy smile tugging at his mouth already. “But I already agreed to watch Christine and Dana P.’s dogs, plus Jared’s cat, and I told them all I’d water their plants.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So what’s the favor?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Evan breathes in. “Could you pet and plant sit for me? Just for a few days so I can actually meet my boyfriend’s family?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Alana laughs. “Oh is that it? I really thought you were going to ask me to help bury the schnauzer or something, you sounded all wigged out.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Evan laughs. “No, of course not.” He smiles to himself. “You sure you’re up for this? I know plants and animals aren’t really your thing.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Pfft, oh ye of little faith,” Alana replies. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m just saying, I got you a spider plant when you were taking the bar because you said you hadn’t seen another living thing in weeks, and you managed to kill it,” Evan says reasonably. “Do you know how hard spider plants are to kill?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes,” Alana says, “But I assure you, I have never once killed a schnauzer.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re the best,” Evan says affectionately. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know,” Alana says. “Now I have to let you go. I brought home this babe last night from the office party and I need to see if I can’t get one more round in with her before I have to go to my body positive yoga class.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Evan grins. “Have fun. Use protection.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Always. Bye.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Evan grins to himself as he gets settled into work. Feeling happy and light and a little bit festive, Evan goes to spotify and puts on some random pop Christmas playlist that is a little heavy on songs by the Pentatonix, but generally keeps up his good mood. He gets to work editing his undergrads’ papers for this earth science class he’s TAing this semester, humming along to the music and smiling. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Maybe half an hour later, Evan can hear Connor moving around in their bedroom, so he turns the music down a little and goes to get Connor a cup of coffee. Two sugars and a splash of milk. Evan refills his own cup and settles back at the breakfast bar. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It takes Connor a little while to wake up in the mornings. He is not an early riser by nature, really. If he had his way, he would sleep until noon daily. And take a nap at three.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Connor tends to look surprised when he first wakes up. Like part of him isn’t sure how he survived the night. His eyes are always huge and a little bloodshot, and he tends to cross his arms over his chest and hunch his shoulders, like he’s trying to protect himself from an icy winter chill. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Morning,” Evan says, and he’s smiling so hard his face kind of hurts. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Connor blinks a couple of times. Evan can tell he’s really not awake yet because his eyelids aren’t exactly in sync. It makes him look like one of those dolls that can open and shut their eyes after they have been well loved for a little too long. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you playing Christmas music?” Connor says, his voice crackly with sleep still. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Evan nods, a little self conscious. “Yeah. I uh. I wanted to talk to you about that?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Connor frowns a little bit, coming to sit beside Evan and wrap his hands around his mug of coffee. He’s got his sleeves pulled over his fingers, giving him these adorable sweater paws, and he sighs. “I’m so sorry. I really didn’t mean to, like, spring that on you like that. Or try to guilt trip you into coming with me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You didn’t,” Evan says quickly. Because he didn’t. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I think I just… had too much to drink and got swept up by the fact that we were, like, walking through a Hallmark movie last night,” Connor says, still looking upset with himself. “That was so not cool of me. Of course you don’t have to come if you don’t want. That was...shitty. I’m so sorry I did that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Evan shakes his head. “You really didn’t. And I wanted to talk to you because… I asked Alana if she can petsit and plant-sit for me, and she says that’s fine. So. I’m coming.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Connor looks a bit pale. “Really?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Evan smiles. “Yeah. I really want to spend Christmas with you? I think… I think it’s going to be really great.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Connor smiles. Nods. “Yeah,” He says, his voice still crackly and sleepy. “Me too.”</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Evan has a plan. Connor has to tell Evan something.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“You’re not,” Alana says, sounding… almost offended. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I am,” Evan says, unbothered. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You are not,” Alana repeats. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Evan shrugs. “I know it’s kind of… old fashioned and cheesy and all that, but. I think it could be nice, you know?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Alana rubs the bridge of her nose like Evan’s plan to propose has given her an epic sinus headache. “Leaving aside the whole thing where you’re literally buying into the whole cis-heteropatriarchal wedding industry, which trust me Evan, I will get to,” Alana says, “You cannot seriously be telling me that you are thinking of asking Connor’s father’s permission to marry him.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Evan pulls a face. “Oh, god, no. No way. That’s gross,” He says. “It’s just… I want to ask them for, like, their blessing you know? I’m basically saying, ‘hi, nice to meet you, I’m gonna be part of the family now.’ Isn’t it at least polite to get their opinion on that before I do it.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Politeness is a way to keep marginalized people oppressed and powerless,” Alana says matter-of-factly. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Evan rolls his eyes. “You’re not wrong, but these people are… Connor says they’re like WASPs, but Catholic. WASCs? I want to at least try to play by their rules a little. Make a good first impression.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I think you should be yourself,” Alana says primly, raising her nose up. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well being myself means I want to make a good impression on Connor’s family,” Evan says, feeling a little ridiculous for having to defend this. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>And </span>
  </em>
  <span>I want to get married.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Alana shakes her head. “Whatever. Okay. Talk to me about the flora and fauna I’m looking after while you’re off asking for permission to take ownership of an adult human man.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Evan smiles awkwardly. He goes over the instructions for looking after the various plants first - it seems more likely that Alana would forget those because they can’t make noises to indicate their needs like puppies and cats. Alana is clearly not paying attention - her eyes never once leave her phone, and she’s texting furiously. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You know what? I wrote it down. I’ll email you,” Evan says. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sorry, sorry, it’s just that the state assembly is trying to get some bullshit resolution in under the wire,” she mutters. She’s frowning. “You should delete all of your social media, by the way.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Evan blinks. His social media is pretty innocuous honestly. Mostly posts about grading and studying with the rare selfie of him and Connor. And for that matter, all of it is private. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, because the government is tracking you,” Alana says plainly. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>You’re </span>
  </em>
  <span>the government,” Evan points out. Alana is </span>
  <em>
    <span>on </span>
  </em>
  <span>the state assembly. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Which is how you know I’m serious,” Alana says. “Besides, Connor’s father is running for a seat on the state senate.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Evan thought Connor had vaguely mentioned it. “Yeah?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You know how dirty politics can get. Remember Tinder-gate?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Evan would hardly call that a “gate” worthy situation. Someone who Alana had matched with years ago on Tinder had written a nasty op-ed about her in the gay paper during her campaign because Alana never called her back. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m just saying, he’s going for the wholesome, family man approach. You better make sure you can’t publicly see anything you don’t want to be out there in the world.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Evan waves her off. There’s nothing of his online that Evan is ashamed of. He changes the subject. “Do you want to see the ring?” He asks. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Alana’s frown wrinkles a little bit. “No.” She puts her phone away when Evan frowns at her. “Okay, fine, I can tell this is important to you. Show me.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Evan goes into his bag to pull out the box. The ring is a narrow silver band with a thin ring of gold running through the middle. “I had my mom’s favorite pair of gold earrings cast as the middle,” he says proudly. “She always said they were her favorites. I think she’d like it.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Alana’s face softens considerably. “Oh. I’m morally against the wedding industry, but that is beautiful. Connor will love it.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Evan smiles at it. “I think so too.” He shakes his head. “Guess it’s out of the question to ask you to be my best man?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Alana’s eyes go frighteningly bright. “Really?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re my closest friend,” Evan says. “Of course, he’s got to say yes first.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Alana nods. “I’m sure he will. He’s clearly head over heels for you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They hug goodbye outside of the cafe, and Alana promises to diligently care for the animals. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“And the plants?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Don’t worry about the plants, Evan, I have a Masters in Public Health and a JD. I can handle some plants.”</span>
</p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <span>Connor is a good driver, Evan thinks. He’s attentive and relaxed at the same time, which Evan always appreciates. He’s never managed to learn to drive himself. His anxiety always gets in the way - there’s so much you need to remember. And such a high likelihood that if you </span>
  <em>
    <span>don’t </span>
  </em>
  <span>remember that you can kill someone. So Connor is always the one who drives them places, which Evan appreciates immensely. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>So he’s kind of nervous about the fact that an hour into the drive, Connor isn’t his usual relaxed self behind the wheel. He keeps shifting how he’s sitting. He even cracked the window at one point, which made the car </span>
  <em>
    <span>freezing, </span>
  </em>
  <span>and he keeps turning the music down. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Evan figures he must be nervous. He </span>
  <em>
    <span>is </span>
  </em>
  <span>bringing his boyfriend home for the first time ever. That’s a big deal. Evan tries his best to be reassuring. He squeezes Connor’s hand when it isn’t white knuckling the steering wheel, but honestly this is making </span>
  <em>
    <span>him </span>
  </em>
  <span>nervous. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And when Evan is nervous, he gets talkative. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Very </span>
  </em>
  <span>talkative. “So something you don’t know about me,” Evan says. “Is that I’m </span>
  <em>
    <span>very </span>
  </em>
  <span>good with parents. I mean, I’m halfway to a PhD, which is the kind of shit parents go gaga over. And I’m polite, to a fault, which you know already, but I really turn it on for parents. The first time I met Alana’s dad, I paid for our whole dinner even though I had to eat ramen for the rest of the pay period. I’m </span>
  <em>
    <span>that polite.</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Connor “hmmm”s distractedly. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“And your dad’s in politics, right? Well thanks to Alana, I can talk politics all day, every day. And I’m an expert on climate change policies. An expert, Connor.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah,” he says distractedly. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“And if all else fails, I can totally make your mom see god,” Evan mutters because it’s clear Connor isn’t paying attention. “You said she’s into Pilates right? Must mean she’s flexible.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah she- wait, what?” Connor says, sounding alarmed. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m trying to figure out how to get you to relax,” Evan says. He smiles at Connor. “You’re totally freaking out.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Connor swallows loudly. “Yeah…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So what’s going on? Tell me what’s got you so worried?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Connor’s face goes ashen. He’s so pale Evan swears he can see the capillaries in his face draining of blood. “I have to tell you something.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Evan waits, his heart beating funnily, blood rushing in his ears. His mind races to a million awful possibilities. Connor has cancer. Connor has cancer and it’s Stage Four and he’s not going to live past Valentine’s Day. Connor has an inoperable tumor that could kill him any day now and he’s afraid he might drop dead in the middle of Christmas dinner. “What…?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m not out to my parents.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Evan swears he goes deaf for a moment. Like he just. Stops hearing. The constant whirring and ticking of his brain suddenly comes to a screeching halt. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>What. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“How?” Evan asks, his voice high pitched and strange to his ears. “Don’t take this the wrong way but… </span>
  <em>
    <span>how?”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Evan doesn’t mean it to be rude. It’s not rude, really, because Connor is just… gay and very open about it, and there is nothing, really nothing, wrong with that.  It’s just that Connor is like… the most out and proud, wave a rainbow flag kind of gay man he’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>ever met. </span>
  </em>
  <span>They met at a gay bar. Connor wore rainbow booty shorts to Pride over the summer and he was only being </span>
  <em>
    <span>slightly </span>
  </em>
  <span>ironic. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And Connor’s just… he’s so gay. He’s not a stereotype but everything about him shouts flagrantly homosexual. He wears nail polish and is finicky about his long, beautiful hair. He dresses well. Evan didn’t even know what a tie pin was before Connor. His favorite vacation was to go to New York for the fucking </span>
  <em>
    <span>Pride Parade. </span>
  </em>
  <span>He wrote his senior thesis on queer literature from the beginning of the AIDS Crisis. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>So genuinely how is he </span>
  <em>
    <span>not </span>
  </em>
  <span>out? </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Look, okay, I told you… my family and I. We aren’t like… </span>
  <em>
    <span>close. </span>
  </em>
  <span>I left home like the </span>
  <em>
    <span>day </span>
  </em>
  <span>I graduated high school. We didn’t speak for </span>
  <em>
    <span>years, </span>
  </em>
  <span>Evan. Years. And we’re not the sort of people who, like, get into our personal lives? And it’s just… never naturally come up.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The words echo in Evan’s ears. He genuinely can’t believe this. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Pull over.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Connor pulls over almost immediately. His hands grip the steering wheel tightly and Evan notices he’s not wearing nail polish for, like, the first time since Evan has known him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Evan stares at him for a long moment, something burning and painful in his guts. It’s never naturally come up. How? Evan, Connor’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>boyfriend</span>
  </em>
  <span>, is coming to Christmas. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Who do they think I am?” Evan practically whispers. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Connor flinches. “My roommate,” he says in this tiny, meek voice. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Your </span>
  <em>
    <span>roommate?!</span>
  </em>
  <span>” Evan shouts. “Your… your </span>
  <em>
    <span>roommate? </span>
  </em>
  <span>We live in a one bedroom apartment!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Connor’s ears go pink. “I… my mom assumed we converted the den?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“And you didn’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>correct her?”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Evan snaps, his blood boiling. He’s so </span>
  <em>
    <span>angry. </span>
  </em>
  <span>What is the </span>
  <em>
    <span>matter with him? </span>
  </em>
  <span>“How is that not your being gay coming up fucking </span>
  <em>
    <span>naturally?</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m so sorry. I called her like, five times this week to set the record straight, but it’s like I can never get a word in edgewise with her. This is the first time I’ve even come </span>
  <em>
    <span>home </span>
  </em>
  <span>for Christmas in three years. I kept trying but she’s just… kind of a bulldozer.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Connor,” Evan gasps. He can’t breathe right. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I shouldn’t have waited to tell you,” Connor says, sounding heartachingly ashamed of himself. “I panicked. You were so excited about like. Christmas with my family? I didn’t want to like… crush your hopes. I’m so sorry.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Evan tries to breathe properly but he can’t. He takes his seatbelt off and practically throws himself out of the car, gasping for air, his brain a skipping CD of </span>
  <em>
    <span>roommate roommate roommate. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Connor gets out of the car. “Evan I am so sorry. I will set them straight the second we get there, I swear.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Evan’s shaking his head. He cannot with this. “I’m not going. No way.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Evan, please.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No. No way. This is </span>
  <em>
    <span>bullshit, </span>
  </em>
  <span>Connor.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I know. I fucking know. I know how much I fucked up and I am so truly sorry,” he says, his shoulders hunching in. His eyes are big and glassy and Evan worries he might </span>
  <em>
    <span>cry. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Evan gets his phone out and pulls up Lyft, thinking he’s just going to get back on the road back home and then he’s going to buy a giant tub of ice cream and cry on the couch until New Years. Maybe longer. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Lyft comes back with an estimated fare of $947.89. Fuck. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Evan. I will fix this. I swear, I’ll fix this. It’s going to be okay. I’m so sorry and I’m going to make this right, okay? Please?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Evan takes a few shaky breaths. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And he nods. “Okay. You swear?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Connor nods emphatically. “I do. I will make this right. I’m not interested in hiding you. I couldn’t even if I tried.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Evan sighs. “Okay.” </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Evan meets Cynthia and Larry.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Mrs. Murphy is immediately intense, that much Evan can tell. She throws the door open with gusto and pulls Connor into a very tight hug. “My baby!” She shouts, kissing him on his cheeks many times in a row. “I am <em> so </em>happy you’re home, sweetheart.” Her red hair seems to flicker like flames around them. Evan wonders if it’s natural. She’s got to be in her fifties - probably not. </p><p>Connor gives her a sort of pained looking smile. “Hey mom.”</p><p>“And you must be Evan,” she says, “I’m so glad you’re joining us. Connor said you’re an orphan, you poor thing.”</p><p>Evan opens his mouth to correct her - he’s not an orphan, it’s just that he and his dad haven’t been in touch since he was seven and his mom died- but then she’s hugging him and talking rapidly about how nice it is that Connor’s brought a <em> friend </em>home for the holidays. “The more the merrier, right? And Connor’s always has such issues making friends, honestly, we were always so afraid that he was all alone up there in the city.”</p><p>“<em> Mom,” </em> Connor tries, looking embarrassed. </p><p>“But anyway we’re so glad to have you,” she says with a nod. “Come in, come on, we’ll give you the whole tour.”</p><p>“Mom,” Connor tries again, but she just ignores it or doesn’t hear him. She smiles at both of them, this slightly manic smile. </p><p>“Shoes off, boys,” she says. Boys. Like they’re twelve.</p><p>Evan kind of numbly takes his shoes off. Bulldozer was a lot more appropriate than he imagined. She leads them out of the foyer to show them the giant living room with a tree that has got to be at least ten feet tall, immaculately decorated. </p><p>“Don’t mind the mess,” Mrs. Murphy says, and Evan finds himself trying to locate what she could possibly be talking about. Everything seems to be precisely where it ought to be. There’s not even any dust motes floating in the air. </p><p>“A piano,” Evan says stupidly. “That’s beautiful.”</p><p>Mrs. Murphy’s ceramic smile seems to crack a little. “Well yes. A shame none of my children play. Zoe always preferred the guitar. But I suppose it looks nice.”</p><p>“I took lessons for eight years,” Connor mumbles beside Evan. His mom appears not to hear it.    She leads them into an insanely big kitchen. Like a Nancy Myers movie sort of kitchen. Evan’s not much of a cook, but the kitchen gives him a stab of envy. It’s all beautiful stainless steel and granite counter tops. Alana would lose her shit at the decadence of it all. </p><p>“And here is Larry’s office,” Mrs. Murphy trills. She knocks on the door and then swings it open. Inside Evan spies a tall man with gray hair and a deep frown, muttering to himself. “Larry. Connor and his friend are here.”</p><p>“Ah,” Larry Murphy says, barely looking up. “Hello boys.”</p><p>“Hey dad,” Connor says softly. He looks smaller somehow next to his father. </p><p>“I’m just working out my speech for tomorrow night,” he says distractedly, staring down at his iPad, muttering something about “family values” and “community.”</p><p>“Tomorrow?” Connor says. </p><p>“We told you about the fundraiser for the children’s hospital,” Connor’s mom says, though from Connor’s face he did <em> not </em>in fact hear about this before now. “Your father is making a campaign speech after he presents the check.”</p><p>Connor rolls his eyes. His mother seems not to see it. “Actually, while I’ve got you both,” Connor says. “I wanted to clear something up-”</p><p>“Oh not now Connor, your father is very busy. We’ll leave him to it, you must be exhausted from the road,” Mrs. Murphy says, breezing out of the office and up a flight of stairs. Connor gives Evan an apologetic look and troops up behind her. </p><p>Evan’s eyes take in the photos lining the walls. Connor in little league. Connor in Boy Scouts. Connor’s sister, Evan assumes, playing a guitar and holding a blue ribbon. There’s so many photos - but noticeably none of Connor as a teenager. </p><p>“So Evan, Connor tells me you’re a student?”</p><p>Evan is so startled to be addressed after so long it takes him a moment for his brain to work. “Uh. Yes ma’am. I’m working on my PhD in environmental science-”</p><p>“And this is Connor’s bedroom,” She says, interrupting. </p><p>Connor’s expression goes totally blank. “You put the door back on,” he says. </p><p>“Well of course silly, you’re an adult now. You’ll need your privacy.” She steps into the bedroom. The walls scream teen angst, and it makes Evan’s heart warm. Posters for emo bands line the ways, so many that you can barely spot the pale blue paint on the walls. There’s a huge bookshelf full of well worn paperbacks and a pair of black combat boots leaning against the closet, as if Connor left them there one day as a teenager and nobody has disturbed them since. Evan spies an old Xbox controller and a big pair of headphones on another set of shelves, along with stacks of CDs and more books. </p><p>Connor puts his bag down at the foot of the bed. “Thanks mom.”</p><p>“Well, I’ll just show Evan to the guest room,” Mrs. Murphy says. </p><p>“He’s not staying with me?” Connor sputters. His face goes pink and he looks… upset. </p><p>His mom laughs. “You always were a joker,” she says affectionately. “He was always telling these jokes, Evan, ‘why did the chicken cross the road?’ Oh it used to make me laugh.”</p><p>Evan laughs a little nervously. “Cute,” he manages. </p><p>“Mom seriously.”</p><p>“Connor, <em> seriously, </em> you’re grown men. I’m not going to ask you to share a <em> bed, </em>” she says as if the very idea is preposterous. She shakes her head like she’s so amused by Connor’s suggestion. Evan’s insides squirm painfully. </p><p>Connor shoots Evan a look and then says, “Actually mom we-”</p><p>“We’ll just head downstairs,” she says cheerfully, not appearing to notice she’s interrupted him yet again. “Be ready for dinner by six, okay?”</p><p>Connor seems to wilt. Evan’s heart hurts a little. </p><p><em> Bulldozer </em>might have been an understatement. This woman is a wrecking ball. </p><p>“Connor’s sister and her fiancé Brian arrive tomorrow,” Mrs. Murphy tells Evan as she leads him down the stairs again. “It’s lovely. Brian’s family and ours have been old friends for ages, since the boys were little. He and Connor were best friends all through grade school.”</p><p>Evan nods along. </p><p>“Zoe is finishing up her masters in social work,” She says, wrinkling her nose as if that is somehow distasteful. “But Brian is a lawyer, like Larry. He’s actually working at Larry’s old firm. Isn’t that wonderful?”</p><p>Evan nods some more. “Yeah that’s great.” He grips his bag tighter. </p><p>“And here we are,” Mrs. Murphy announces, opening the door to another room. It’s bright and sunny with decorations ther scream Martha Stewart’s holiday collection. “This room used to be the kids’ game room, but since we’re empty nesters these days, I thought it just didn’t make sense. I thought of making it into my office, but what would I need an office for? Women don’t need home offices.”</p><p>Evan can practically hear Alana shouting about cis-heteronormativity in his head. “Uh…”</p><p>“Well. The bathroom is over there to the left if you’d like to freshen up before dinner.” She gives Evan a sickly sweet smile. “Maybe a shave?”</p><p>Evan self consciously touches his sort of stubbly cheek. Connor always says he likes Evan a bit scruffy. </p><p>“I uh. Yeah. Thank you again for having me, Mrs. Murphy, this is so…”</p><p>Overwhelming. Intense. Scary. Evan feels a little bit like the protagonist of <em> Get Out. </em>But queer. </p><p>“Oh of course sweetheart, Larry and I are always happy to open our doors to people in need,” She says. </p><p>And then she’s off, leaving Evan’s head spinning. He collapses onto the bed. </p><p>Holy fuck these people. </p><p>How the fuck did they make <em> Connor?  </em></p><p>His phone buzzes. </p><p> </p><p>
  <b>I’m so fucking sorry. I promise I will set them right after dinner, okay? Mom usually loosens up after some Chardonnay. I love you so much. Thanks for being patient with me. </b>
</p><p>Evan smiles. </p><p>And decides it’s not so bad. Not really. Because Connor is here. </p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter 4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Dinner with the exes - er- Murphys.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Evan does shave before this fancy dinner he’s being taken to, which causes Connor to quirk an eyebrow when they meet up in the foyer. Evan shrugs, not wanting to say “your mom thinks my facial hair makes me look like a ragamuffin, apparently,” while they might be lurking nearby. Mr. Murphy is wandering around with his iPad in hand, looking at something seriously while he walks, and Mrs. Murphy flits all over like someone put wheels on her shoes. Evan is exhausted just watching her. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Connor looks… kind of miserable, honestly. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Evan wants to pull him into a hug and kiss his cheeks until he’s smiling and he spits out just what’s going on inside of his head, but considering he hasn’t had an opportunity to actually explain to his parents who Evan really is, that doesn’t seem like the kindest way for them to find out. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He settles for asking him softly if he’s okay, and Connor responds with a shake of his head, his hair falling in front of his face, his eyes down. He looks so young and small here. Normally Evan views him as this sort of… powerful, commanding force. He’s got this narrative voice that basically oozes “don’t fuck with me” when he’s writing, and that’s usually how he carries himself through the world too. When they first met at Alana’s party, Evan had been watching Connor out of the corner of his eye all night - this tall, lanky, gorgeous guy who was making everyone around him nod thoughtfully and laugh uproariously - and he kept wishing he had the nerve to introduce himself. Because he’s… soft. He’s softer and awkward and fumbles his way through most conversations. But then Connor came up to </span>
  <em>
    <span>him,</span>
  </em>
  <span> approached </span>
  <em>
    <span>Evan </span>
  </em>
  <span>and said, “Alana tells me I should be interviewing you for your work examining the socio-economic impacts of climate change, but honestly I’ve been stumped trying to come up with an intelligent question to ask because all I can think about is how damn cute you are.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And Evan had basically melted. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>So this… hunch shouldered, insecure and nervous Connor? </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It kind of hurts Evan’s heart to see. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He really doesn’t like it. Not one bit. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Connor, can’t you at least tie your hair back,” Mrs. Murphy says on one of her many trips through the living room in various states of readiness. Right now she’s fastening on a pair of earrings that sparkle brightly. Evan bets they’re real diamonds. He bets she owns multiple pairs. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Connor sighs and tells Evan he’ll be back. Evan breathes out slowly and stares at the massive Christmas tree. Everything about being in this house makes him feel like he’s a clumsy baby elephant in a museum full of priceless artifacts. One wrong move and the entire display will come crashing down around them. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He can’t imagine what growing up here would have been like. He can’t picture Connor as a kid here at all really. Certainly not how he is now. Connor’s… looser in their place. He’s the kind of person who makes a cup of coffee to discover a half drunk cup gone cold already sitting at the table. The guy who leaves the television on in the background because he doesn’t like quiet while he works from home. The guy who genuinely filled the living room with biodegradable balloons for Evan’s last birthday and smugly informed him that they were full of confetti packed with wildflower seeds. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>That guy does not belong in this weird, IKEA-showroom house. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>No. Not IKEA. Evan can’t imagine these people would stoop to IKEA. They’re so obviously wealthy that Evan has no idea where the hell they’d even shop. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Connor returns from the bathroom with a tight, anxious smile and his hair pulled half up, half down, so it’s out of his face but the back still hangs over his shoulders. Evan smiles at him. He loves it when Connor does that with his hair. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He also loves pulling the hair tie out of it and rubbing his hands through Connor’s hair at the end of the day to mess it up. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Those are not thoughts that are appropriate for this Macy’s Holiday Showroom house, where Connor is straight and Evan is, apparently, some kind of destitute orphan. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ready to go?” Mrs. Murphy asks, appearing in the living room in a totally different dress than the one she had been wearing before, her hair pulled back elegantly to show off her sparkly blood diamond earrings. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>...Evan’s not being the most charitable. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He just wasn’t expecting… these people to be Connor’s people. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They all troop to the garage and climb into a Lexus SUV. Mr. Murphy turns on the local NPR station and grumbles a little bit about a report on some virus that is making a lot of people sick in China right now. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“China,” He mutters to Mrs. Murphy. “What do you think, Connor? Is this… Corona nonsense the result of a biological agent gone wrong.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh don’t start, Larry, it’s the first time Connor’s been home in ages,” She says. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Connor is stiff beside Evan, his expression wooden and eyes far away. “I think,” Connor says, his voice dull, “That you and I agreed not to talk politics last time I came home for Christmas.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Mr. Murphy lets out a sharp laugh. “Well, it’s not my fault you got all overly sensitive about the whole gay wedding cake thing.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Evan’s eyes flicker back to Connor. He’s chewing his lip. “Yeah. I was overly sensitive. Not that you were being narrow minded and originalist about the First Amendment.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Now, now, that’s enough,” Mrs. Murphy chides like this is all in good fun. “We’re almost there.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Evan reaches out and subtly bumps his knuckles against Connor’s, a gentle, “I’m here.” Connor gives him a pale smile. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They arrive at the restaurant, and Evan’s stomach genuinely turns when he realizes that the Murphys are the kind of people who regularly valet park. Mr. Murphy doesn’t even make eye contact with their valet, just hands over the keys and heads inside, distractedly looking at his phone already. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Mrs. Murphy is chatting, though it doesn’t appear to be directly at any one particular person, and when the host goes to seat them she offers a not-so-gentle correction. “Oh, actually, we’ll be five, not four.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Evan blinks and Connor blinks, both of them looking confused at one another, both trying to work out who the extra person is. “Is Zoe coming?” Connor asks. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, look who it is! Sabrina, over here!” Mrs. Murphy says, waving. Evan spots a pretty Indian girl with long dark hair wearing a bright yellow dress. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Connor has gone from pale to almost gray, and he turns to Evan to whisper “I am so sorry.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Evan nods sort of stonily. Because he knows who Sabrina is… Connor’s high school girlfriend. They weren’t serious, as Connor tells it, and they only went out for a few months while Connor was panicking and trying to figure out if he was actually gay. They broke up just before graduation and that was that.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Or so Evan thought. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sabrina is annoyingly gorgeous. Evan’s bi, he can appreciate a gorgeous woman. But he kind of feels a little bit like this chick is trying to step on his turf. More so when she gives Connor a lingering hug and kisses his cheek and tells him she’s missed him “so much.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Evan imagines pouring a glass of red wine on her mustard yellow dress. It’s a satisfying fantasy. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They all sit down at the dinner, after an awkward moment where the server has to fetch them an additional chair, which means everyone’s elbows are sort of bumping and Evan’s seat beside Connor is clearly not where a person is meant to go because it’s where all of the appetizer plates and cocktail list have been stacked. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Connor asks the waiter for a whisky with a desperation in his eyes that Evan kind of hates. Connor isn’t really the sort of person who ever seems to </span>
  <em>
    <span>need </span>
  </em>
  <span>a drink. He enjoys them, sure, and likes them, but he rarely ever seems to need a drink. Except right now he seems like he needs it. Really needs it. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Evan echoes his order and then Mrs. Murphy starts talking again. Evan can’t help but wonder if her throat ever gets dry from the constant chatter, and then he reprimands himself because he </span>
  <em>
    <span>just met this woman </span>
  </em>
  <span>and also he’s in love with her son so maybe he could just. Chill out. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But in his mind, Evan can’t help but compare Mrs. Murphy to his own mother. Heidi Hansen was… Kind. She was a kind person. She always went out of her way to do whatever she thought was best for Evan. And on the rare chance that Evan brought someone over to meet her, she was always so welcoming. She’d ask genuine and curious questions, engage them with whatever their hobbies or interests were. When she met Alana their first year of college, his mom let Alana talk her ear off for genuinely three hours about reproductive justice and smiled brightly the whole time. She went out of her way to make sure Alana felt welcome at their home. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Meanwhile Mrs. Murphy seems to genuinely not notice how uncomfortable everyone else around her seems. It’s honestly startling. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dinner is… a slog, honestly. Mr. Murphy only seems to pipe up to disagree with something Connor has said. Sabrina is fully indulging in some nostalgia, reminding Connor about all of these things they did together in high school - like going to the prom or the mono outbreak that followed - that Connor seems prepared to deny every happened. And Mrs. Murphy seems hellbent on getting Connor and Sabrina to rekindle their teenage love affair, apparently, because she keeps emphasizing how “great they were together” and at one point even says something kind of offensive about how mixed race babies are “just the cutest.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Evan is really struggling to feel charitably toward her by the time she nearly knocks his plate into his lap while trying to grasp Connor and Sabrina’s hands over a story about some essay competition Connor won as a senior. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Excuse me, I’m just… bathroom,” Evan says. He gets up carefully from the table and hurries away, his brain sending all sorts of anxiety-induced embarrassment through him. He’s convinced he’s sweated through his shirt and he’s not even sure he tasted a bite of his meal. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Evan steps into the mens’ room and sinks back against the door, breathing out slowly. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You planning to hold me hostage in here?” A voice says. Evan’s face heats up immediately when he spots an attractive Latino man at the sink washing his hands. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No, sorry,” Evan says, shaking his head. “I just needed a moment to… not be having the dinner I’m having.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The guy nods and smiles knowingly. “Oh yeah, everything around here is like that. Pro-tip? There’s a bar upstairs.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Thanks,” Evan says with a smile. He steps away from the door the let the guy pass when it opens again to reveal Connor. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh,” He says, like the wind has gone out of him. “Miguel. You’re...here.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The guy, Miguel, stops smiling. “Oh. Hey man.”  He puts his hands into his pockets. “See ya.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Evan swallows uncomfortably. “That was… Miguel? Like, M, Miguel? Like </span>
  <em>
    <span>Miguel?</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Connor exhales. It sounds painful. He looks… horrified. “Evan, I am so sorry. I had no idea he was here… and I didn’t know that my mom was going to invite Sabrina, god, fuck, I don’t even know what to do with that.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s like… Ex-a-palooza at this place tonight,” Evan says, and he’s trying very very hard not to sound quite as bitter as he is. Just… honestly. Two exes in one night? That’s… that so much. That is so much on top of the general discomfort of being around Connor’s parents who don’t know he is gay. Evan feels like he’s going to pass out from all of the secrets he’s holding onto right now. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I know,” Connor says, and he grabs Evan’s hand. “I swear. This not going to happen again. We’re going to finish dinner and I’m going to sit them down and explain. I swear. This… the universe is clearly trying to, like, punish me for not having come out to my parents and, like, okay God or whatever. I got the message. Thou shalt not keep big gay secrets from our family.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Evan laughs a little. He casts his eyes over to the door and then presses a soft kiss to Connor’s lips. “It’s okay. This is… Your folks are…” Evan’s struggling to find the words. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You can say it, they suck,” Connor says sourly. “They just…” He sucks in a breath. Blows it out. “Like, they just don’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>get </span>
  </em>
  <span>me, you know?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Evan swallows hard. It’s something he does understand. As much as he knew his mom loved him, loved him fiercely and with all she had, it wasn’t always easy. She didn’t always understand where he was coming from or what he needed. It took a while to get her to understand. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m so sorry,” Evan says. “I get that, I really do. But maybe once you tell them… maybe then you’ll make a little more sense to them, you know?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Connor takes a deep breath. “Okay. We should… I don’t want to hear my dad’s bullshit jokes about how we’re in here together.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Evan frowns but nods. He heads out first, betting Connor will give himself a minute or two before he returns to the table. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sabrina in her pretty yellow dress smiles at him. “I feel like I’ve barely gotten to talk to you all night,” She says with a smile. “It’s so good to meet you.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You too,” Evan manages despite the fact that honestly he’d rather meet Donald Trump in a dark alley at this point. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sabrina smiles a little wider. “So, environmental science? That’s super intense. I’ve been really struggling with, like, agonizing over my carbon footprint lately? On the one hand, I know it’s really mostly corporations that are polluting the planet, but on the other I’m filled with so much guilt every time I forget a canvas bag when I go to the store.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Evan smiles. Damn it, that was a relatable feeling. “Yeah, that’s… that’s such a thing, you know? Like. You want to be a responsible citizen of the world, but also…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Jeff Bezos could single handedly end climate change in the next few years, but we both know he’s not going to?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Evan laughs. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sabrina laughs. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Murphys are debating whether they should get dessert. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sabrina glances at them, and then lowers her voice. “You don’t have to worry, by the way. I totally pieced together who you are. Cynthia isn’t a subtle as she thinks, but I’m not here to come for your man. I just wanted to meet you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Evan feels some of the tension inside him leak out, like a hole poked in a water balloon. “Oh thank god,” He breathes. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Connor never exactly </span>
  <em>
    <span>told </span>
  </em>
  <span>me, but y’know… I worked it out when we were in college. I think you guys make a cute couple,” She says in a low voice. “I’m surprised he didn’t explain who you were…?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Evan laughs a little. “It’s been like. Bad rom-com levels of miscommunication,” he says. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sabrina winks at him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And Connor returns to the table, looking a little less freaked out than he had when Evan left the bathroom. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Connor, did you see? Miguel Alvarez is here!” Mrs. Murphy says. “He dropped by to say hello while you were in the bathroom.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I ran into him on my way in,” Connor mutters. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Mrs. Murphy looks at Evan and smiles. “Connor and Miguel were very good friends in high school. It was such a shame when they stopped speaking, but that Miguel was heading down… Well it wasn’t a very good path. And some of his lifestyle choices.” She shakes her head. “But it looks like he’s doing well for himself now. He’s doing his residency at Mayo.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Wow, Mayo?” Mr. Murphy seems to have tuned back into the conversation for the first time in ages. “Good for him. Glad to see all of that trouble in high school didn’t set him back.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Evan looks at Connor for an explanation, but both he and Sabrina have gone very quiet and picked up their glasses. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Before long, dinner ends. Evan’s a little horrified to see the 15% tip that Mr. Murphy leaves the wait staff. He… He’s not sure what to do. That’s not an acceptable amount. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>If he says something, he’ll appear rude. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>If he doesn’t say something, that server will be out 10% of what she’s owed for the running she had to do to keep the Murphys happy. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Connor shakes his head, grabs his wallet out, and throws an additional $40 on the table. Far more than the tip Evan had in mind. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Cheap bastard,” Connor mutters, glaring at his father’s back. “Like that’s going to win him any votes.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Evan bites his lip, and even though he’s regretting the words before they even leave his mouth, he finds himself saying, “Let’s not tell them tonight.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Connor looks gobsmacked. “What? But -”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I know what I said,” Evan says, backtracking. “I know. But this… Today has been a lot. And it seems like things have been tense with you and your folks. So let’s do it tomorrow, okay? We can spend one night apart, you know? It won’t kill us.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Speak for yourself,” Connor says, but he looks relieved. “Thank you. Thank you so much for being so fucking cool about this Evan, you have… you have no idea -”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Evan waves him off. “It’s okay, don’t worry about it. We’ll deal tomorrow.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Thank you,” Connor says with a sigh. </span>
</p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <span>It’s weird as fuck sleeping without Connor. Evan hasn’t exactly done it since he and Connor met. Connor is a snuggly person, and his preferred method of sleeping has been to curl himself around Evan as tightly as humanly possible, with the option to shove his face into the crook of Evan’s neck. And Evan loves it. He loves that his boyfriend is some kind of overly affectionate labradoodle puppy who basically throws his entire weight on Evan in the night, he loves seeing Connor out cold with his hair everywhere, he doesn’t even mind it when he sometimes wakes up to find that Connor has drooled on him in the night. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>So sleeping alone in this strange house is… strange. Weird. Evan doesn’t like it. He feels cold. Lonely. He misses the way that he and Connor tend to talk until one of them literally can’t keep their eyes open anymore. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Evan pulls his phone out and texts Alana. She had asked how it was going when Evan arrived and he didn’t have any explanation for her, but after a full day of this feigned heterosexuality nonsense, Evan needs his queer voice of reason. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His phone is ringing immediately. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Alana, before you freak out -”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I knew it. I </span>
  <em>
    <span>knew </span>
  </em>
  <span>something had to be weird about the fact that you haven’t met his parents. Because not meeting someone’s parents after a year? There’s got to be a reason, you know? Trust me, I have tried to avoid meeting parents, it never works out. So they don’t know he’s gay?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Nope, apparently not,” Evan says with a sigh. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Get out,” Alana says immediately. “I’m serious, get out. These are the white people from the movie, and if you’re not careful there’s going to be a blind art collector trying to snatch your body.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Evan laughs a bit awkwardly. “I’m also white?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Irrelevant, you gotta go,” Alana says. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s fine,” Evan says. “We’re going to explain everything tomorrow. It’ll be okay. It’s kind of funny, if you think about it.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh yeah, Evan, hilarious,” Alana says drily. “Nothing screams humor quite like concealing a vital part of yourself.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Evan sighs. “It’s not a big deal.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It so is a big deal,” Alana says. “He’s not standing in his truth! And he brought you in on it! He brought you into his web of lies and nasty ass patriarchal bullshit.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We’re not lying,” Evan insists. “We’re just.. Being. Slightly less than truthful.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sweet god, tell me you’re not pretending to be straight too,” Alana says in a tone that makes Evan imagine she’s rubbing the bridge of her nose. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No, of course not,” Evan says dismissively. “It’s not even a thing. It’s not like they’re trying to, y’know, set me up with random girls. Not that I’d be mad that they were, because I like women, I love women, it’s just that I’m already involved…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“This justification you’re performing for me is truly delectable,” Alana says, “But I’m going to need you to come home before you get hurt.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Evan sighs. “Thank you for your concern, but really, it’s going to be fine. We’re going to clear the whole thing up in the morning.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Uh huh,” Alana says. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“How are the dogs? Jared’s cat? The plants?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“The dogs are barky and adorable, the cat avoided me the whole time I was there, hardly rocket science.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“And the plants?” Evan prompts. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, they’re great,” Alana says in a voice that suggests to Evan that she has absolutely not checked the plants. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You have to check them tomorrow Alana,” Evan says. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, gotcha, totally,” Alana says. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Look, I should get some sleep,” Evan says after a while. “Thanks for watching all of the animals for me.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Have fun lying about yourself,” Alana says. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Evan rolls his eyes and hangs up. </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Chapter 5</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>The prodigal Zoe returns. There is ice skating and a swanky soiree.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Evan’s eyes fly open because there is a woman standing at the end of the bed. Evan’s brain is sluggish and sleepy and he’s not entirely sure he’s not dreaming this, but he blinks a couple more times and the woman is still there. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hello?” Evan tries. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The woman’s arms are crossed tightly over her chest. She doesn’t look happy. In fact, she looks </span>
  <em>
    <span>very </span>
  </em>
  <span>unhappy. “Who are you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Evan wonders stupidly if this was how Goldilocks felt when she woke up to discover she had been breaking and entering in a house that belonged to three bears. “I’m Evan?” He says, but it comes out a question, like maybe he’s asking </span>
  <em>
    <span>her </span>
  </em>
  <span>who he is which is way too metaphysical for this time of day. “And you’re…?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Zoe,” she replies in a clipped voice. “Mind telling me what you’re doing in our room?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Standing in the doorway, Evan spies a beefy guy with thick wavy hair and very little neck. He feels suddenly very tiny and like he’s made out of toothpicks. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Your mom… Mrs. Murphy, she… I’m an orphan?” Evan says idiotically, hating himself more with each word that comes out of his face. He’s not awake. He’s tired and it’s been super strange being here and he can’t even remember properly his stupid, idiotic closet coverstory. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?” Zoe says. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“C-Connor’s my… I’m his… he invited me,” Evan says. “I’m here. For the holiday? Your mom put me in here?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well Brian, looks like we’re stuck in my old room,” She says, looking at the beefy guy in the doorway. “Would have been </span>
  <em>
    <span>so </span>
  </em>
  <span>nice if mom had bothered telling me.” She turns on her heel and leaves the room. Evan’s still sitting there, the covers clutched over his chest, not understanding what is going on when his phone buzzes beside him. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>Incoming, Zoe on her way down. Be advised, unpleasant. Tried to explain you were asleep and was told to go fuck myself. </b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Evan sighs, wishing he’d been </span>
  <em>
    <span>awake </span>
  </em>
  <span>to get Connor’s text. Then his mind switches immediately to worry because there have been exactly zero times when Connor has ever been awake </span>
  <em>
    <span>before </span>
  </em>
  <span>Evan. Is he okay? Did Evan sleep like epically late and made himself known as a tragically impolite guest? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He looks at his phone. It’s barely 7:00am. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>So not that. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Back to worrying that Connor’s not okay, because he is not an early riser. Many mornings, Evan has to coax him out of bed with promises of coffee and many, many kisses. And even then, it’s not guaranteed that Connor won’t try to pull Evan back into bed with him and cuddle him sleepily. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>For the umpteenth time, Evan wonders who these people </span>
  <em>
    <span>are. </span>
  </em>
  <span>These people who prompt Connor to be awake at 7:00am. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Evan scrambles to the bathroom to pee and shower in record time. He tries to put on clothes he’s not embarrassed to be seen in. He makes up the guest bed, hoping Zoe won’t mind too much that he slept on the sheets the night before since obviously she and Brian can have the room tonight. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Evan makes his way upstairs. He hears voices in the giant kitchen so he steps into the room cautiously. Mrs. Murphy is at the stove cooking what </span>
  <em>
    <span>could </span>
  </em>
  <span>be pancakes, though they don’t look quite right. They’re awfully bumpy looking. Not bubbly… bumpy. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Connor is sitting at the table by the window, staring into the mug in front of him. He looks exhausted, big dark circles under his eyes and a sort of grayish pallor that makes Evan wonder if he might be getting sick. “You want coffee?” Connor asks, barely looking at Evan. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Evan nods. “I can-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Connor shakes his head very quickly. “Trust me you don’t want to poke the bear.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Evan feels like Goldilocks again as Zoe appears in the kitchen. She looks like someone out of a catalogue for chic and together millennial women. Evan wonders genuinely if she has a stylist or if she is just one of those people blessed with a sense of fashion. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So you decided to grace us all with your presence this year?” She says stonily in Connor’s direction. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Connor shrugs mechanically. “Guess so,” he says, reaching for a mug. He pours a cup of coffee for Evan and brings it over, his eyes still down. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well that’s spectacular,” Zoe says, frowning. “Since you haven’t bothered to come back in three years.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Isn’t it nice that both of you are home?” Mrs. Murphy says happily, setting a stack of lumpy pancakes on the table as if oblivious to the tone Zoe is using.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh yeah, a real joyous occasion,” Connor mutters. He ignores the lumpy pancakes and sips his coffee. “How’s school, Zo? You save the world yet?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Zoe’s cheeks flush. “I’m… it’s going well.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Evan glances at Connor questioningly, but he shakes his head subtly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Now Connor,” Mrs. Murphy says, cutting through the tension with a sort of practiced ease. “What was it that you wanted to tell me? You said when you got up that it was important.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Evan sucks in a deep breath. This is it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh good, can’t wait to hear this,” Zoe mutters. “Hope it’s better than last time.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mrs. Murphy’s unfaltering smile finally wavers. Evan worries it might undo the sort of frozen look her face typically has. “Zoe, we have a </span>
  <em>
    <span>guest.</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, one nobody told me about,” Zoe says. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I tried to tell you when you stormed in at fucking six thirty,” Connor says, “But you were too busy bragging about Brian’s promotion so loudly they could hear you in the next town over.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Come on Connor, what is it this time?” Zoe deflects. “Rehab again? Bankruptcy? Or is it jail this time?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Connor’s face goes white. Like milk poured down a drain. He’s so white it makes the mug he’s holding look yellowed and dirty by comparison.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Rehab</span>
  </em>
  <span>? Connor? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Evan shakes his head. That… He hasn’t had enough coffee. He didn’t hear that right. Connor would have told him if he had a drug problem. They’ve been together for over a year. They love each other. He would have trusted Evan with that information if it were true. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Zoe, stop,” Mrs. Murphy says. “I’m sure whatever it is is good news.” She laughs a bit. “Connor doesn’t keep secrets from us.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ouch. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Evan flinches. Connor flinches. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, sure,” Zoe says, “Apparently we’ve all forgotten the whole mono inspired fiasco. Oh, and the overdose -”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Zoe, enough!” Mrs. Murphy snaps. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m </span>
  <em>
    <span>just </span>
  </em>
  <span>saying, when has ‘mom I have something to tell you’ ever played out well with Connor?” Zoe says irritably. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m literally right here,” Connor snaps. “Like, I can see and hear you. This doesn’t concern you so maybe butt out?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Zoe rolls her eyes. “Maybe when you stop leaving us all in suspense!” She says. “This is starting to sound like one of those weird Youtube videos about people coming out.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Coming out?” Mrs. Murphy says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Like, as gay?” Zoe says. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mrs. Murphy wrinkles her nose in this very dainty and posh sort of way. “Oh, I hate those. Especially when they end with the gay couples kissing.” She visibly shudders. “I understand that people can do whatever they want in the privacy of their own homes, but do they have to be so… public? Children could be watching those videos.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Evan's stomach goes cold. Beside him, he can feel Connor’s leg bouncing anxiously. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So, Connor, what </span>
  <em>
    <span>is</span>
  </em>
  <span> it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Connor puts on this tight, painful looking smile. “My book is… uh. I got my last round of edits in. They’re looking at a spring release for the hardcover?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Evan feels himself deflate a bit. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He can’t exactly fault Connor for not picking that moment. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But still. It takes the wind out of his sails a little. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh how wonderful,” Mrs. Murphy says brightly. She pulls out her phone and snaps a series of photos of Connor’s blank expression. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What are you doing?” Connor mutters. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Your father is letting me run his social media! Our consultant says relatable photos of daily life really resonates with the constituents. This is definitely going on Instagram!” Mrs. Murphy exclaims breathlessly. Connor frowns and says nothing. Nothing. Not a peep. Evan can’t post a picture of him online without Connor critiquing all of the options and approving them. But he just lets his mom post an unflattering picture right on Instagram. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Evan stares. He knows he’s staring. He can’t help it; he thinks he’s in shock. Like medically. This is not Connor. This isn’t his boyfriend who has an opinion on </span>
  <em>
    <span>everything. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Evan can’t believe he’s letting his mom get away with that. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, okay, we’ve got lots to do today,” Mrs. Murphy says. “So we better get cracking! Eat up everyone, I made the pancakes with flax eggs!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Evan blinks at Connor, who looks kind of nauseated. “Mom I think I-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t want to hear any excuses, Connor, we told you this was going to be a busy one. We have to be at the food pantry first, then your father is hosting a campaign event at the ice skating rink, and then we’ve got the children’s hospital fundraiser tonight.” Mrs. Murphy gets up from the table and flits off to “get ready.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Zoe looks at Connor with raised eyebrows. “Don’t eat those. Last time she made them, Brian and I got food poisoning.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And with that she leaves them alone. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m so sorry,” Connor says. It seems to be his favorite thing to say recently. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Evan shakes his head. “Rehab?” He says softly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Connor’s eyes get this far away look in them. “It wasn’t exactly rehab,” he explains. “More like… a stupid yoga retreat. I partied a little too hard junior year of high school, so I spent the summer before senior year away... Zoe’s just being a bitch.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Evan closes his mouth around his protest of the word “bitch,” deciding now isn’t the time. “Still, rehab’s pretty… I…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Connor sighs heavily. “I should have told you, I know. But it was just, y’know. Dumb kid stuff. Showing up to school stoned or taking three oxy just to see how it felt. My parents just, y’know, overreacted. Behaved like they found me all strung out on meth, not a little too sleepy after misjudging my tolerance. I didn’t actually overdose or whatever. Zoe’s just being dramatic because she spotted me having fallen asleep at the top of the stairs.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Evan can buy that. Sometimes his mom would overreact too. Evan was never one who loved public speaking, but he had one anxiety attack after a presentation on Daisy Buchanan in high school and she was dragging him to the shrink in town. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Evan realizes now she probably had good reason to be worried. He does have an anxiety disorder. But he also thinks her panic and frantic approach only made him more anxious because instead of just being a bit embarrassed to have started wheezing his way through quotes from </span>
  <em>
    <span>The Great Gatsby, </span>
  </em>
  <span>Evan wondered if maybe there was something like seriously, irredeemably wrong with him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So,” Evan tries after a moment. “You and Zoe…?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Connor sighs. “We’ve never really been close, you know? She was always doing everything I did, trying to one up me, outdoing me. It was like, I couldn’t have anything of my own without her trying to find a way to do it and do it better, you know? I got into my top four colleges, but Zoe had to get into six. I took piano lessons for years, so Zoe had to master the guitar. I went to grad school, and Zoe applied like the next week. It just… it gets kind of annoying.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Evan nods. He doesn’t totally get it; technically speaking he has a half sister out in Colorado, but it’s not the same as growing up with siblings. Growing up in competition with someone. “That sounds really hard.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just…” he sighs. Looks at Evan, his eyes soft. “I am so glad you’re here? I… I’m sorry I haven’t made good on my promise yet, but I will And you’re here which is just… so wonderful. You’re wonderful.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Evan nods. Smiles a little. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The day is. Bananas. Intense. Hectic. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Evan’s never packaged meals at a food pantry before, but it’s apparently a very precise process with Mrs. Murphy in charge. Evan is very quickly demoted from filling the boxes because apparently he has a seriously “underdeveloped standard of organization,” and is instead sent to sort dry goods like bags of rice and potatoes. Banished to the back of the room, Evan finds himself face to face with Sabrina again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hi,” he says. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How are you holding up?” She asks him with a sympathetic smile. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hanging in there,” Evan says. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mrs. Murphy made me change my hair the night of prom,” Sabrina says to him. “Like two hours before the dance. She’s just… very image focused.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Evan can fucking </span>
  <em>
    <span>tell. </span>
  </em>
  <span>“Wow.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Sabrina says. She shakes her head, then rolls her eyes. “Don’t let her get to you. Trust me when I say she wouldn’t be any nicer if you were a girl.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s not as comforting as Evan suspects Sabrina is trying to be, but he appreciates her saying it nonetheless. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How are you?” Evan asks her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sabrina smiles a bit. “Good,” She says. “I caught up with some old friends. Picked out my dress for tonight.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re going to the fundraiser?” Evan asks. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Everyone is going to be at the fundraiser. It’s for, like, tiny little babies born with cancer!” Sabrina says. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Evan laughs at her. She’s funny. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>After the food pantry, Evan is shuttled off to this ice skating thing. Mr. Murphy insists that Connor drive with him, and Evan is dragged along with Zoe and Mrs. Murphy and Brian. She’s chatting about wedding plans and Brian’s recent promotion and Evan really wishes he’d been able to talk his way into Mr. Murphy’s car. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You lift?” Brian grunts at Evan about ten minutes into the ride. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Lift what?” Evan says cluelessly. He realizes too late that Brian means, like, weights. But Evan doesn’t so that wouldn’t have been a very fruitful conversation anyway. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Brian doesn’t respond. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Evan wonders if he should tuck and roll out of the car. But apparently it’s too late, because they’ve arrived at the ice skating rink. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Evan hurries to find Connor as soon as he’s got his skates on, trying to tread carefully because he’s not the steadiest on ice skates. Connor’s face is completely closed off when Evan finds him on the bleachers. “You okay?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Connor shakes his head. “You know, had to hear all about my wasted potential on the way here,” he mutters. “I could be working for a </span>
  <em>
    <span>real </span>
  </em>
  <span>news organization, you see.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Evan’s throat closes for a moment. “That’s awful.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Connor shrugs. “Want to skate? Fair warning, I’m terrible. But it might be kind of fun?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Evan smiles. “I’ll probably be terrible too.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Connor sighs, and gives Evan a relieved smile. They make their way out on to the ice. Connor grabs Evan’s shoulder for balance almost immediately and they burst into peals of laughter. It’s the kind of moment where normally Evan would lean in for a kiss… but Zoe and Brian are skating nearby.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Evan would like it noted that he officially does not like this. He is straight up not having a good time right now. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Skate much, dude?” Brian laughs as he and Zoe skate by. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Connor’s smile sags a little. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Evan nudges his shoulder. “Hey. You okay?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Connor sighs. “This was… I haven’t come home the last few years. I guess I forgot… how hard it can be.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Evan really wants to hug his boyfriend. “Can I do anything?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Connor smiles. Shakes his head. “I’m just. Thank you for being here… being you.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They make slow circles around the rink until it’s time for Mr. Murphy to give his little campaign speech. Evan listens and finds himself frowning a little. This is some… conservative twaddle, truth be told. His dad sounds like a jackass while he talks about “working families” in an Armani suit. He’s trying to sound moderate but it’s moderate only in the sense that Ronald Reagan was a moderate - right wing shit. Alana would be so angry at Evan for even listening to this. He’s suddenly terrified he’s going to end up on Fox News somehow. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Evan tries his best to keep his face neutral but with each passing moment, he keeps imagining throwing Connor over his shoulder and skating them the fuck out of here. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The crowd gives some tepid applause and then it’s over. Connor exhales loudly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So your dad…?” Evan says to him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Big name in the local GOP,” Connor says dully. “Can’t wait until the local papers catch wind of my little announcement. They’re probably spin it as him trying to appeal to millennials or something.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re still planning to tell them?” Evan says stupidly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Connor looks… hurt. “Of course I am.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Evan feels so guilty. “I didn’t mean…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I didn’t realize today was going to be this whole… circus,” he admits. Evan hates the shame he can hear in Connor’s voice. He hates it a lot. “Tonight. Before the fundraiser. Promise.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Evan nods. “I know. I love you.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They make a few more laps around the ice rink. Up ahead, Zoe and Brian are posing while Mrs. Murphy snaps photos of them. Evan can see, even from a distance, that their smiles look plastic and empty behind the eyes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What’s the deal with Zoe and Brian?” Evan asks quietly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Connor rolls his eyes. “Well, you know, they’re the </span>
  <em>
    <span>perfect </span>
  </em>
  <span>couple. Brian’s a lawyer, and Zoe’s getting a master’s in… working until she gets pregnant.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Evan knows his eyebrows shoot up. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Look, it’s… like I wish it wasn’t true. Zoe’s smart. A pain in the ass, but smart. But I know once she gets married, my parents are going to start playing on the guilt for her and Brian to spawn,” Connor says. “Because, you know, pregnancy and children are </span>
  <em>
    <span>very </span>
  </em>
  <span>appealing to the voters.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Women really do get the raw deal,” Evan muses. “It’s not like they’re on you to have kids.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well of course not,” Connor says with another eye roll. “They’re still still waiting for me to be successful.” He sighs. “Don’t worry. We’ll show them. We’ll do it all.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Evan’s heart soars. “Yeah?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Connor’s cheeks go pink. “I mean. I think you’d make an incredible dad…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Evan grins. “You too, you know. You’d be so good.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Connor shrugs. “If you say so.”</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>“Before the fundraiser” is, if anything, more hectic. Connor and Zoe genuinely have a screaming match about a hairbrush, something that knocks the wind right out of Evan. He’s never </span>
  <em>
    <span>ever </span>
  </em>
  <span>heard Connor </span>
  <em>
    <span>yell. </span>
  </em>
  <span>And then Mrs. Murphy bursts into tears over the two of them fighting and Mr. Murphy can’t find his cufflinks and then Brian grumbles at Evan that his tie is crooked. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Evan knows he had a pretty small family, but he doesn’t remember it being quite this exhausting. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Evan feels like he’s run a marathon by the time Mrs. Murphy insists they all gather around the tree, all but throwing her phone at Evan and demanding he take a family portrait for the ‘gram. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Evan’s hands are shaky and nervous as he points the phone and tentatively says, “Alright, say ‘Christmas!’”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t say that, it’ll make your mouths look full,” Mrs. Murphy says, her tone just a little sharp. “Just smile.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Everyone straightens up and pastes on these award winning smiles. Even Connor. Evan snaps three photos in quick succession. He wants to make sure they have options. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you,” Mrs. Murphy says, taking her phone back. She flicks through the photos. “Blurry. No. Hmm… no Connor’s slouching. Well I guess we’ll do the family portrait </span>
  <em>
    <span>tomorrow </span>
  </em>
  <span>then. We can’t be late.” She hurries off without another word. Evan’s stomach churns. He… he didn’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>volunteer</span>
  </em>
  <span> to be the photographer. He’s got shaky hands. If he’d had a moment to explain, maybe they wouldn’t have asked. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fucking hell. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When they get to the hotel ballroom that is hosting the fundraiser, Connor is immediately dragged away to meet with a big potential donor with explicit instructions </span>
  <em>
    <span>not </span>
  </em>
  <span>to talk about what his book is about since his father doesn’t believe the donors will find his book about the rise of incels and the alt-right “appropriate.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I spent years researching that,” Connor says. “Isn’t your whole appeal </span>
  <em>
    <span>supposed </span>
  </em>
  <span>to be that you’re not like the Trumpian side of conservative politics?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Saying you’ve written a book about the current climate will suffice,” Mr. Murphy says in a clipped tone. “And Zoe, please don’t mention your internship.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Zoe blinks in surprise. “I interned at an HIV clinic,” she says blankly. “In case management. I made sure people stayed in care and had adequate housing and medical coverage.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“HIV is not a top priority for our voters,” Mr. Murphy says. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And don’t even think about bringing up Obamacare,” Mrs. Murphy cautions. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well what </span>
  <em>
    <span>should </span>
  </em>
  <span>I say then?” Zoe says. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mrs. Murphy sighs. “Talk about the wedding, of course!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Zoe looks plain murderous. Brian loops his arm around her. “I think we can do that babe.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Evan awaits his instructions. He expects something akin to “stand there and look needy,” but instead Mrs. Murphy says, “Oh Evan, there’s some lovely canapés here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>At his silence, she goes on, “Canapés are like little snacks. You should go try some.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Evan is straight up offended by the implication that he doesn’t know what a canapé is. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, there’s Rita Montgomery. Let’s go everyone,” She says, nudging Connor and Zoe forward. Connor turns back and mouths “sorry” over his shoulder. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Evan typically isn’t someone who ever </span>
  <em>
    <span>needs </span>
  </em>
  <span>a drink, but he definitely needs one now. He heads off to the bar and orders a vodka soda, clutching it in his hand tightly. This party is swanky. And white. It’s so fucking white. Uncomfortably white. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The </span>
  <em>
    <span>Get Out </span>
  </em>
  <span>vibes just keep coming and don’t stop coming. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Evan circles the perimeter after getting a drink, doing his best to avoid eye contact and generally wondering if hiding in the bathroom is an option right now. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Connor appears at his side once Evan’s nursing his second drink, and asks if he can have a sip. Evan nods, and Connor takes the drink and immediately downs the whole thing. “Fuck this party.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you alright?” Evan asks. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Connor snags a glass of champagne from a passing waiter and downs it quickly. He looks so stressed out that Evan’s chest aches. “Connor, maybe we should… go? Get some air or something?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Connor shakes his head. “Can’t, because I need to make an appearance when my dad gives his speech,” Connor says. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Evan reaches out and puts his hand on Connor’s shoulder. “You seem… really not okay,” He says gently. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Connor frowns at him, his eyes big and sad. “I just… I think maybe it was a mistake, coming here. I think… I don’t know if I can do this.” He shakes his head. “This is why I usually avoid the holidays. It brings out the worst in all of them. I guess I forgot how painful it is performing the whole Happy Family garbage.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Evan feels his heart squeeze painfully. This is not great. The only time Evan’s ever seen Connor this stressed out was when his car got towed the day his manuscript was due for the first round of edits to his publisher. “Connor… It’s. It’s okay. Maybe you just need a break? It’s been a lot.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh my god, is that Connor Murphy?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Connor whips around. Evan spots Sabrina standing with a couple of other girls who all descend on Connor like he’s the last piece of candy from a pinata. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And who is this?” Says the girl to Sabrina’s right. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, just Connor’s orphan pity invite,” Evan mutters under his breath. Connor shoots him a look, like the words sting, but the girls haven’t let up. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We were just talking about you,” This blonde one says. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Totally,” Says the brunette. “Remember that time when we all got mono after the prom? Me and you and Sabrina and Miguel? What was up with that? I still can’t figure out how we all got it!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, that was weird -” Connor tries. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Did you guys meet Evan?” Sabrina tries. “Sam, Harper, this is Evan. He and Connor live together.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sam’s eyes linger on Evan’s belt buckle for an uncomfortable moment. “So you’re roommates?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Evan swallows. “Yeah, I mean… yeah.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I couldn’t live with a roommate again,” Harper announced. “At twenty eight, I need my freedom.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t your parents pay your rent?” Sabrina says pointedly. Evan likes her a lot, he thinks. But Connor’s face goes blank and closed off. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Evan wishes he could ask but Sam is asking Connor if he’s really a writer. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Connor nods. “Uh. Yeah. I am. I have a book coming out in the Spring.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What about?” She asks. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Connor looks uncomfortable. “Politics.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Lame,” Sam says. “You should write about something sexier. Like how Hitler was probably gay.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ignore her,” Sabrina says. “She did too many shots before the party.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I was just getting into the holiday spirit,” she protests. “Besides, we were all </span>
  <em>
    <span>loaded </span>
  </em>
  <span>the last time we were together. Remember the fundraiser at the Hilton? We did lines of coke with one of the bartenders and he was totally hitting on Connor!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m going to get some air,” Evan says to Connor because he can’t with this. He gets a new drink at the bar and then heads out to the terrace. He imagines in the summertime, it’s beautiful, overlooking lush trees and rolling hills. But right now the trees look bare and everything seems… more like a horror film than a Hallmark movie. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Evan takes out his phone and calls Alana, needing some contact with a sane person. Someone who doesn’t regularly announce doing cocaine in public places. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So you’re clearly calling to tell me that I’m right and you’re currently trying to bite your way out of a chair,” Alana says. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“God, no, please stop being dramatic,” Evan says, feeling his cheeks flush with anger. “It’s just… God, Lon, his dad is a Republican?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Uh, yeah, did you think anything else? I showed you his campaign website!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Evan doesn’t know how he missed it. He feels… frustrated and annoyed. “Connor keeps swearing he’s going to explain, but it’s like at every turn someone manages to cut him off or he gets into a fight with his sister or… And now! Now I’m at a fundraiser! A fundraiser for a republican pretending to be some, I dunno, orphan charity case -”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So the big plan to ask permission to claim ownership of another person isn’t going so great?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“God, Alana, will you please stop?” Evan snaps. “I’m sorry that you can’t keep a relationship going long enough to even consider being serious, but that doesn’t mean you have to shit all over mine. We’re happy, and once this is over -”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What? He’s going to just… come out to his parents and they’ll accept you with open arms?” Alana returns. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Maybe? I don’t know!” Evan’s frazzled and on edge and he’s half ready to just chuck his glass down on the brick just to be able to break something. “You don’t have to be so judgmental.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not being judgmental,” Alana says. “I just think you’re making poor decisions that will continue the success of white and male supremacy, and you should feel bad about it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I really don’t need the guilt trip,” Evan says bitterly. He feels guilty enough as it is. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So, changing gears,” Alana says after a pregnant pause. “I was thinking about how much I love Jared’s plants and I was thinking maybe you could tell me where I might buy those exact plants?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Seriously? I’m having a crisis and you’re plant shopping?” Evan says with a laugh. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good point, I’ll google it. I think you gotta get out of there babe,” Alana says. “It sounds like you two are not having a nice time at all. Maybe you pack it in and try again next year.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No,” Evan says, suddenly stubbornly certain he can stick this out. “It’s what, three more days? I can make it through three more days. It’s not that bad, honestly.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Real convincing,” Alana says, and Evan can picture her rolling her eyes. “Try it with a little less self loathing next time.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Whatever, I gotta get back to this party.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Have fun raising funds for fracking.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Evan hangs up. Lets out a frustrated groan. It’s for the damn children’s hospital. There’s nothing nefarious about supporting children. Sick children. With cancer and whatever. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>This is fine. It’s fine. It’s not what he expected, but he can do this. Connor needs him, clearly, because he’s acting like some kind of pod person replaced Evan’s boyfriend and… </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Evan can do this. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Evan startles so dramatically that he nearly does drop his glass onto the terrace. It’s Miguel - Connor’s ex, Miguel.  “Oh. Hey. You scared me, sorry.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Cool shoes,” Miguel says, pointing to Evan’s loafers. Evan smiles when he realizes Miguel’s wearing the exact same pair of oxblood brogues. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, thanks.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Miguel sucks in a breath. “I wasn’t trying to eavesdrop, man, I was just… out here when you came out and… Dude. Sucks.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Evan bites his lip. “I don’t… I’m not sure I…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I just mean, y’know. I get it. I can relate to the uh… whole… Murphy Family dog and pony show, you know?” Miguel says. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Evan doesn’t know how to reply. On the one hand, he’s grateful to hear he’s not, like, insane. That this whole… production is a lot. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But on the other hand, he’s not exactly in the business of befriending people he knows make Connor uncomfortable. And Evan knows fairly well by this point that Miguel makes Connor plenty uncomfortable. It seems unfair to consider him an ally while Connor’s like… </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Evan doesn’t even know. He’s not the enemy by any means. He just seems to be… fighting a total different battle. One that he hasn’t bothered to clue Evan in on.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It just feels wrong. Bad. Not who Evan is as a person. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Uh, yeah, thanks,” He says vaguely. “But I think I’ve got this handled.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Miguel’s smile fades a bit. “No, no… of course. I wasn’t trying to imply…” He shakes his head. “Well. Cool. Guess I better get back inside. Can’t wait for Mrs. Patel to pull me aside and talk to me about her dental hygienist’s ‘puffy earlobes’ again.” He shakes his head. “Don’t know what I was thinking, coming back here a doctor. Might as well just wear a sandwich board around my neck that reads ‘it’s probably not cancer, Karen.’”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Evan does laugh at that. “Do you think it would help?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Miguel rolls his eyes. “Most likely not. Someone would march up to me to tell me Karen’s a slur.” He waves at Evan. “See ya.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, later.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Evan heads back inside and nearly walks directly into Zoe who is eyeing up the proceedings with a grimace. “Oh. It’s you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hi?” Evan responds. He clears his throat and nods his head toward the rest of the room. “Great party.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Zoe raises her eyebrows. “You think? If my friend ditched me at a party, I don’t think I’d have anything nice to say about it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Evan opens and closes his mouth like some kind of very stupid, mute fish. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Look, it’s cool that you’re, like, trying to be friends with Connor or whatever -”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not… I mean. We’re -”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But you should really know what you’re getting into. I mean, you saw him at the house right? I didn’t even touch that hair brush and he lost his damn mind over it.” She shakes her head. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I think he’s just been under a lot of stress,” Evan says breathily. “He, y’know, with editing the book and the holidays -”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Please,” Zoe says, rolling her eyes. “Like Connor doesn’t have plenty of ways to cope with holiday stress.” She mimes lighting a joint. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Evan briefly morphs into that GIF of a white guy blinking. What is her problem? Connor, like, barely smokes weed. Evan has probably smoked more than Connor the whole time they’ve been dating. And from the sounds of things, Zoe is really over dramatizing Connor's issues with drugs. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Did my mom say you two are roommates?” Zoe says after a moment. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Uh, yep,” Evan says. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I thought Connor’s place was a one-bedroom?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Evan’s brain freezes for a long long moment. “I mean, yeah, but… I… the den, you know? We uh. It’s actually pretty roomy so…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Look, you know what? I don’t actually care. I’m going to find Brian,” Zoe says and she hurries off. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Cool,” Evan mutters, looking around and feeling… exhausted. Just beaten down. The very act of trying to seem normal in front of these people is kind of… soul crushing. He has no idea how Connor grew up this way. How he turned out so… normal and kind when everyone around here seems to thrive on appearing proper and together and glossy. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s been two days and Evan’s starting to think he enjoyed the root canal he had two months ago more than this. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Connor looks about as exhausted as Evan feels when they find each other toward the end of the night. Connor got dragged on stage after his dad’s crowd pleasing speech about, Evan doesn’t know, closing the border with Mexico or something else racist, and he and Zoe glared at each other every moment a camera wasn’t pointed at them. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When they arrive back at the Murphy’s McMansion, Connor makes a big show of yawning and saying he’s heading off to bed. Evan’s disappointed. He really wanted to talk, touch base with Connor and check in about how he’s doing and what the plan is. Evan feels lost in a way he never ever felt with his mom. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He retreats to the guest room, apparently his for another night, and changes in his pajamas. Evan pulls out his phone and, hating himself a little for doing it, goes to his mom’s old facebook page and scans through photos of the two of them from their last Christmas together. Well, last Chrismukkah. That’s always how they celebrated. Lighting the menorah and then putting up a tree. They had this stupid rule that they could only give each other things that cost a dollar or less during Hanukkah, so they’d always give each other the dumbest little trinkets from the dollar store to open each night. One year his mom bought Evan this entire set of plastic dancing solar flowers. Their leaves bounced and the blossoms swayed back and forth when you put them in the sun. He loved those dumb solar toys, but when he moved out of his dorm freshman year, most of them got broken. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Evan flicks through the photos, missing his mom especially right now. She didn’t always totally understand where he was coming from, but he knows she would have advice for him right now. She’d know exactly what he needed to do or say to get through this in one piece, exactly how he could help Connor figure out a way to tell his parents the truth. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Evan’s still scrolling through photos of him and his mom from Chrismukkah 2010 when his phone buzzes in his hand. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Evan smiles when he sees it’s Connor. </span>
</p><p>
  <b>What are you doing?</b>
</p><p>
  <span>Evan rolls his eyes. He’s sitting alone in the Murphys’ old game room, staring at pictures of his dead mom. Definitely not sexy. </span>
</p><p>
  <b>Just surfing facebook. </b>
</p><p>
  <b>Did you see that Australia is on fire?</b>
</p><p>
  <span>The next text comes a moment later. </span>
</p><p>
  <b>But the koalas :( :( :( </b>
</p><p>
  <span>Evan laughs a little bit. </span>
</p><p>
  <b>You know that koalas are super susceptible to chlamydia?</b>
</p><p>
  <b>Gross. </b>
</p><p>
  <b>I can’t sleep. Hate not being next to you. </b>
</p><p>
  <b>Come up here?</b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Evan stares at the text for a long moment. It seems stupid and kind of risky… but he’d be lying if he wasn’t also totally missing Connor right now. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He puts his phone in his pants pocket and starts to journey up the stairs. The house is dimly lit and oh so quiet. Evan’s practically tiptoeing as he makes his way up the steps. He finds himself stupidly wondering if tiptoeing actually makes you quieter or if it’s something you learn from cartoons that actually makes no sense. Like an irrational fear of the Bermuda Triangle or quicksand. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Evan very cautiously hurries past the open door to Mr. Murphy’s office, where he can hear him inside listening to a video of his own speech from tonight, which makes Evan roll his eyes. He’s just about to start climbing the stairs up to Connor’s room when Evan sees a light switch on at the top of the steps. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Panicking, he turns and opens the first door he finds and heads inside. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mistake. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Terrible, horrible mistake. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Because the room he’s chosen to hide in is apparently where Zoe was sleeping. On a sofa.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What the hell?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m s-sorry,” Evan sputters, feeling idiotic, “I didn’t - I was looking for - I’m so sorry.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Zoe’s face looks pale and alarmed. “Brian’s just… he’s on a facetime call, so I was just. I just came down here because he…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Evan shakes his head, genuinely not caring why she isn’t in her bedroom next to Connor’s knowing he needs to go right now. “I’m really -”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What are you even doing up here?” Zoe asks him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I was - I’m just-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Zoe?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They both freeze as Mr. Murphy steps into the room. “What’s going on?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Brian snores -”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sleepwalking!” Evan exclaims stupidly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They both look at each other, clearly aware that they’re both lying. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Right,” Mr. Murphy says. “Why don’t you both head off to bed?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Evan nods frantically. “I’m so sorry. Of course, I’m so sorry sir.” He backs out of the room quickly, getting out of there as fast as he can. He pulls out his phone to text Connor that there is </span>
  <em>
    <span>no way </span>
  </em>
  <span>he’s going to be able to sneak upstairs because apparently he’s an idiot. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He lets out a squawk of surprise when he stops into the guest room and Connor’s hiding behind the door. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What are you doing?” Evan whispers. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I missed you,” Connor says with a shrug, pulling Evan in for a kiss. He closes and locks the door. “And you created the perfect diversion.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Evan lets out a breathy laugh. “Connor… your parents…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“My mom’s zonked out on ambien,” Connor says. “And my dad’s not going to come looking for me at this time of night to tell me I’m a disappointment.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But they don’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>know,</span>
  </em>
  <span>” Evan protests weakly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t care,” Connor says bitterly. “I… I. I’m over this. Fuck it, right? I don’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>care. </span>
  </em>
  <span>I just miss you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Evan wants to protest more. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can march upstairs and tell them right now,” Connor offers. “Or…” He gives Evan this devilish smirk. “You could let me show you just how </span>
  <em>
    <span>much </span>
  </em>
  <span>I’ve missed you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Evan should be sensible. They’re both miserable lying. He should tell Connor that actually, yeah, marching upstairs is exactly what he wants. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But the thought of passing up time </span>
  <em>
    <span>alone </span>
  </em>
  <span>with Connor? Evan’s not that strong. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>So he kisses him and gets lost in it. Gets lost in the tangle of Connor’s long limbs and soft lips and the feeling of safety and home he always seems to find in Connor’s arms.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Chapter 6</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>The internet really is forever.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hi folks, content warning ahead: There's a conversation about a suicide attempt. It's not explicit or graphic, but just as a heads up!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Evan wakes up to a knock at the door. He blinks sleepily. Connor’s wound around him like a vine, like some kind of affectionate and soft snake, and he decides that the door is stupid and he’s going back to sleep.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Evan? Are you alright? Why is the door locked?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He jolts into wakefulness. Connor. Fuck. This is not how his family should find out. Damn it. “Fuck. Damn it. We fell asleep. Fuck.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Beside him, Connor is already scrambling out of bed, his long limbs a whirlwind of activity as he picks up his discarded clothes and dashes off to the closet. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Evan turns back to the door and the knocking and grabs his shirt and pulls it on immediately. He goes and opens the door to reveal Mrs. Murphy looking very irritated and impatient.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Why was the door locked?” She asks. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh I… last night I was… sleepwalking? And I. I didn’t want to do that again,” Evan lies lamely, his face growing hot. “I don’t normally but…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Mrs. Murphy’s eyes narrow and then she nods solemnly. “That’s so dangerous,” she says. “One time I took too much ambien and woke up to see I had rearranged the whole living room, and later found out I’d bought a speedboat online. It was a disaster.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Evan tries to smile. “Can I… did you need something?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Mrs. Murphy nods. “Yes, I was just coming to check and see if I stored my extra wrapping paper in the closet down here.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Evan’s heart is going to beat out of his chest. He doesn’t think Connor was planning to </span>
  <em>
    <span>literally </span>
  </em>
  <span>come out of the closet. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, I don’t…” Evan flounders. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Mom?” Zoe’s voice calls out from the top of the stairs. “The wrapping paper was in my room.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh,” she says. Mrs. Murphy seems to be really lingering and Evan is doing his best not to visibly show how badly he wants her to leave. He was very happily cuddling the fuck out of her son before she ruined it. Also he kind of has to pee. “Well then. I’m sorry for disturbing you.” She eyes him up for a long moment. “I’ll leave you to… whatever you were doing.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Evan’s face feels like it’s on fire. Oh sweet God, she can’t be serious. “Oh I wasn’t. That’s not what… I really did sleepwalk last night… I didn’t want to bother-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s perfectly natural, honey,” she says. “I raised a boy, don’t forget.” She gives Evan a bright smile. “I’ll see you whenever you’re… finished.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She leaves the room, dragging whatever remains of Evan’s dignity behind her. Evan sinks to the floor, his hands over his face. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Connor steps out of the closet once the coast is clear. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I am so sorry.” He rubs Evan’s shoulders, pressing a kiss to the side of his head.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Your mother thinks I’m the sort of person who would masturbate all over her guest room,” Evan moans pathetically. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I… fuck I’m so sorry.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, I’ve heard that a lot the last few days,” he mutters. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Connor goes quiet. His hands on Evan’s shoulders freeze. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Evan pulls his face out his hands. “Fuck. I’m sorry. I just… you know, I’m not </span>
  <em>
    <span>used to</span>
  </em>
  <span>… it’s just different.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Connor nods. “Yeah. Or it sucks.” He looks so fucking sad.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Evan can’t help but agree. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Connor clears his throat. “Okay, so here’s the game plan. I’m going to head upstairs and get dressed. You get dressed and then we’re sitting my parents down and clearing this all up. I don’t care if I have to hog tie them to get them to listen.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Evan nods weakly. Finally. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Finally. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Connor heads up the steps, and Evan drags himself through a shower and putting his clothes on. He definitely slept better with Connor beside him. He thinks it’ll help him settle down once the truth is out. He’s not built to be a liar. He’s so bad at it. Plus it will mean he won’t have to resist every time he thinks about touching Connor. Which is often and always and very grounding.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Evan climbs the stairs and hears hushed voices coming from the kitchen. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You knew about this?” Evan hears. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I didn’t,” Evan hears Connor say. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That poor thing. I mean, can you blame him? He’s had such a hard life. Father left, mother died. Of course he’s unstable.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Evan doesn’t know what he’s hearing but every one of his instincts is telling him to turn and run. To just get the hell out of here before he has to hear more.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But he ignores the instincts, like an idiot, and heads into the kitchen. Everyone falls silent. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Morning,” Evan says, trying for nonchalant and failing spectacularly.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Have you… been online at all?” Connor asks him, his voice soft and careful. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Evan’s heart drops. “No?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Come sit honey,” Mrs. Murphy says, ushering Evan to the table. It would be almost sweet if not for how borderline condescending it sounds.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What’s going on?” Evan asks. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Connor passes his phone to Evan. His hands are shaking. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Evan looks. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He wishes he hadn’t. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>LOCAL CANDIDATE FOR STATE SENATE SEAT WELCOMES MENTALLY ILL COLLEGE STUDENT INTO HOME FOR HOLIDAYS. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Evan’s heart stops, he thinks.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Distantly he’s offended. He’s a PhD student for fuck’s sake. This is why he doesn’t shave. He’s got a baby face. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Below the headline is a Facebook status Evan posted back in 2011. Right before he withdrew from school for a while. Right after he tried to...</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Turns out this wasn’t an amazing day or an amazing year because why would it be? It used to be because I had a mother who loved me but without her there’s just no point anymore. I’m not a part of anything… I’m not even part of a family anymore… I wish I was part of something. I wish that anything I said mattered to anyone. I mean face it, would anyone notice if I just disappeared tomorrow?”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>That status… </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Evan was nineteen when he posted it. His mother had just died. He wasn’t… well. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Alana had seen it and come over right away. Stopped him from actually following through with his plan to hurt himself. Checked him into the hospital and took care of him for weeks when he was finally allowed to go home. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I…” Evan has no words. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Connor’s eyes are glassy with tears. “Evan. I’m so sorry. I didn’t know…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We’ll get this taken down,” Mrs. Murphy says firmly. “This is a horrible invasion of privacy.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Evan nods numbly. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Mr. Murphy clears his throat. “Well, all press is good press, right?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Dad,” Connor snaps. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m just saying, at least it paints us in a good light,” He says. He shakes his head. “It could be worse. At least they didn’t turn up something of yours…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Dad</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” Connor repeats, but this time his voice breaks. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His dad is texting on his phone. “This is Joseph. I need to take it - but it’s probably best if Evan skips the candidate dinner this evening.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Like hell he is,” Connor says. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And for a brief, shining moment, Evan thinks this is it. It’s the moment. The moment Connor decides to just tell his damn parents so that the very least he can give Evan a hug right now.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“There will be </span>
  <em>
    <span>donors</span>
  </em>
  <span> Connor, I can’t have them thinking-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Fuck this. No. If Evan doesn’t go, I’m not going,” Connor announces defiantly. “You’re being really rude.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Connor you know how important this campaign is to your father,” Mrs. Murphy says.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You know what, no. Fuck that. Evan’s more important than some idiotic fancy dinner. I’m not going if he can’t go. I don’t care if there are </span>
  <em>
    <span>donors, </span>
  </em>
  <span>I care about Evan. He’s my b-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s enough Connor,” Mr. Murphy says, sounding exasperated. “You will go to this dinner. You’ll make appropriate small talk with the donors and you’ll do it with a smile.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re not </span>
  <em>
    <span>listening </span>
  </em>
  <span>to me,” Connor says, almost pleading. “I am not going if Evan can’t because Evan is my-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Cynthia, remind me, who pays for Connor’s apartment?” Mr. Murphy grits out. “Who put Connor through college </span>
  <em>
    <span>and </span>
  </em>
  <span>a useless MFA program? Pays his phone bill, his credit card? Who kept his mouth shut for the last three years when Connor’s made it abundantly clear that he’s got no interest in being a part of this family?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The room is quiet. Tense. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh right. It’s me. I did all of that.” Mr. Murphy straightens his shoulders. “You’re coming to dinner Connor. This is not up for debate.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Mr. Murphy leaves the room and the whole room rings with his words. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Evan has no idea what to do. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>None at all. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His dirty laundry was aired on a national level and… Connor’s clearly upset and Mrs. Murphy is obviously upset and apparently Mr. Murphy has been paying their rent this whole time which does not sit well with Evan, who had insisted that he cover at least </span>
  <em>
    <span>part </span>
  </em>
  <span>of the rent each month but now he sort of wonders what Connor’s been using the money for.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It doesn’t matter. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Mrs. Murphy changes the subject. “Evan, you should put your white elephant gift under the tree when you have a moment.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“White elephant…?” Evan doesn’t know what she’s talking about. He’s not even positive that any of this is really happening.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Connor was supposed to tell you,” she says, obviously irritated. “We do a white elephant exchange at the party tomorrow night. You’ll need a gift.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh,” Evan says softly. He didn’t know.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Connor’s not saying anything. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, you’re welcome to take the car to go and get one,” Mrs. Murphy offers. “We don’t have much going on today.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t drive,” Evan says quietly. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Because of your… illness?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Evan would want to laugh if he didn’t feel so much like crying. “Something like that,” he says vaguely. “I can take a Lyft.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Connor doesn’t move. Doesn’t say a word. He’s staring blankly at the table in front of him. He looks like… like a totally different person. Someone who Evan doesn’t know. He’s not looking at Evan or talking or doing anything. It’s like he’s vanished inside of himself.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I guess I’ll. Go do that then.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Evan doesn’t wait to hear Connor not offer to come along. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He hurries off and books a ride to the nearest mall. </span>
</p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <span>Evan tries Alana but gets her voicemail. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He feels numb. Totally numb. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He can’t… he has no idea what to do. No idea. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The fact is, this is why Evan doesn’t accept invitations when Alana or Jared or Dana P. invite him to join their families and loved ones over the holidays. This is why he prefers to pet sit and plant-sit and stay alone. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Evan knows how seriously fucked up he is. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He knows the deep dark pit he found himself in after his mom died. He knows that it was a pit he was already well on his way to digging before she died too; the number one thing they used to argue about was his mom being worried about him, worried about his mental health, about the way his anxieties crippled him and the days when it was a struggle to even get out of bed. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Evan remembers vividly thinking, as he sat in the ER waiting room to be checked into psych with Alana, that the only person who understood how he had reached a point where he was seriously considering taking his own life was dead. How fucked up that was. How fucked up it was that he had been wanting to die, and then his mother did die, and maybe Evan had killed her. Maybe Evan was so toxic and broken that it caused his mother’s brain to bleed. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He knew that wasn’t real. He knew the science behind brain aneurysms and even briefly entertained the idea of medical school for a while before deciding that he probably wasn’t cut out to slice people’s brains open. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He can’t believe someone found that post. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Alana had helped him to take it down almost immediately after he was checked safely into the hospital psych floor all those years ago. She said she deleted it. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Apparently the internet really is forever. Figures. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Evan wanders the mall for a long time. Two days before Christmas is a truly awful time to be here, Evan thinks. It’s crowded and busy and slightly too warm. He paces the length of the mall at least three times before he even bothers to stop and actually purchase something. And even then, the thing he buys is not a gift. He buys a giant pretzel and sinks sort of forlornly down onto a bench. He watches all of the shrieking children and their families playing, all of the harassed looking middle aged women on their phones, all of the twinkly lights even though he is indoors and it isn’t even noon yet. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It’s too much. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Evan is truly exhausted. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He finishes his pretzel. Gets up, thinking he’s going to go into the Yankee Candle he passed his laps of the mall. He’s going to purchase the most generic, white lady friendly fucking candle for this stupid gift exchange, slap a gift receipt on the back and call it a damn day. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He’s so energized by his plan to get this shit handled that Evan almost gets onto the escalator going the wrong way and, in the process, bumps directly into Miguel of all people. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Evan wonders if this is like… some really fucked up version of the Christmas Carol that he’s living. Like he’s being haunted by the ghost of ex-boyfriend’s past… only Miguel isn’t even his ex. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey man,” Miguel greets him with a smile. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey,” Evan says, grateful that at least someone has smiled at him today. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They kind of just look at each other for an awkward moment after it becomes painfully obvious that they do not know what to say to one another. It’s not like Evan and Miguel know each other; they’ve just dated the same person. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What’s that?” Evan tries, pointing to the bag in Miguel’s hand. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh it’s…” His face curves into a slight smile. “Actually, can’t tell you. It’s my white elephant gift, and if I spoil the fun, I’ll be banished to the servants’ quarters with no dinner.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Evan laughs. He doesn’t mean to, but he does. He laughs. “Actually, uh, I was hoping to run into you,” He says, still smiling. “See I’m having this medical problem?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Miguel nods, looking thoughtful. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, see it’s this thing where every time someone speaks to me, I want to jam a fork into my neck. Is that… What’s up with that?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Miguel nods wisely. “Sounds like you have a severe case of Murphy-itis.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Evan smiles a little, laughing kind of pathetically. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, I mean. Once you reach the fork jabbing stage, you’re pretty much a goner. Hope you’ve updated your will,” Miguel says. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Evan laughs weakly. “Is there… So, what, this is terminal? Does it at least come with some good pain meds?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Miguel looks mischievous. “Yeah, we can arrange that.” He looks around. “Connor with you?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Evan shakes his head wearily. “He’s… there’s some… We’re going to meet up later.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I get it,” Miguel says. “In that case, follow me. Doctor’s orders.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Evan is a little bit apprehensive, but he can’t exactly bring himself to continue wandering around this bar for the rest of the day and night. No way. So he follows Miguel to the parking lot and barely hesitates when he gets inside.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Miguel drives for about fifteen minutes, and then parks in this tiny little parking lot behind a purple brick building. “Now this usually sells out fast, but I know a guy,” Miguel says. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And so it seems, he does. A drag queen, apparently. Because they’re immediately escorted inside, through an old school arcade and into a sprawling dining room. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Here’s your BINGO cards ladies,” the guy Miguel knows says with a wink, slapping the cards down on the table. “Can I get you a brunch beverage?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Miguel nods. “You need alcohol.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Evan definitely needs an alcohol. He manages to stutter his way through ordering a drink which is embarrassingly named a “total top,” and the server winks and sashays off. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Okay, elephant in the room. I saw the article. It’s on, like, every mom in town’s facebook,” Miguel says apologetically. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Evan replies softly. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m really sorry that happened man. That is such bullshit.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Evan shrugs. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The queen comes back with Evan’s drink. They sip in silence until it’s time to order, and both settle on some brunch food. Evan is, unsurprisingly, starving. He’s not sure he’s had a proper meal once since he got here. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Miguel is watching him, Evan can tell. Evan sighs. “Last night. When you said you could relate…?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Miguel frowns. “Don’t worry about that, man, I was. That was my bad, I made an assumption about you and Connor and, you, like, don’t owe me any explanation.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Evan looks down at his total top drink. “I think… considering where we are. It’s safe to say that you are. Correct in your assumptions.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Miguel puts his drink down as the queen announces that BINGO is starting. Looks cautiously at Evan. “So. Uh. You know who I am, right?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Evan sighs. Nods. The drag queen starts calling numbers. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, Connor told me.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Miguel gives him a look. “Can I ask… what exactly did he tell you?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Evan shrugs, blotting his bingo card with his blotter. O67. “Just, that, y’know. You guys dated in high school, and you were, like, his first boyfriend.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Miguel nods a little. There’s something weird in his expression. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Is there… is there more to it than that?” Evan asks. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Miguel sighs. “Kind of?” He’s frowning a bit. “Yeah I mean. We were, like, best friends in high school. And we… it sounds shitty. I know how shitty it sounds, but our girlfriends were best friends too.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ah,” Evan says, a pain blossoming in his chest. That sounds hard. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“And well. Y’know. Toxic masculinity and all that, like, whatever. We just… like nobody knew? Nobody knew we were, y’know, a thing. Sabrina and Harper? They were good beards for weird guys like us. And well.” Miguel’s lips tug down into a frown. “So like. I want to say for the record, I think he should be the one telling you this. But considering that he’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>Connor, </span>
  </em>
  <span>talking about this shit is like. Not his thing.” He shakes his head. “The four of us went to prom. And like a week later, we all came down with mono?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Evan knew about the mono. He did not know that Miguel was involved. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Connor and I had talked about like. Telling people, after graduation. But then mono. And like everyone says you get it from kissing and I hadn’t gone to medical school yet to clarify… point is. This rumor started that Connor had hooked up with </span>
  <em>
    <span>Harper, </span>
  </em>
  <span>and that’s how we all got it?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Evan nods, his stomach turning. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So Sabrina confronts Harper, who denies it of course. So she found Connor at school and demanded to know how we </span>
  <em>
    <span>all</span>
  </em>
  <span> got mono. And, well. Mostly I think she was joking, but she asked like. If Connor had been kissing </span>
  <em>
    <span>me, </span>
  </em>
  <span>and he. Well.” Miguel looks down at his drink sheepishly. “He denied it but, y’know, he’s got no poker face. And when Sabrina pressed he… said that </span>
  <em>
    <span>I </span>
  </em>
  <span>was gay and obsessed with him and that I had kissed him. Once.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Shit,” Evan says. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Because. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Shit. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“And then after that he… he missed like the last two weeks of school. Everyone said he was just still sick. And he was. But it wasn’t… just mono, you know? He… it wasn’t mono.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Evan feels cold all over. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“And once we graduated, he packed his things and moved out of his parents’ house and… yeah.” Miguel looks sad. “I was kind of a prick really. I know how hard it was for him, growing up in that house. I knew how hard things were for him. But my feelings were pretty hurt so… I just sort of dropped him like a bad habit.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Evan nods. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So the thing I relate to, I guess, is being in love with someone who is… scared. To be their authentic, real self where other people can see.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m sorry,” Evan says quietly. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It was a long time ago,” Miguel says with a shrug. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Still,” Evan says. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Their food arrives. They quietly eat and sip their drinks and play their BINGO cards. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Say it with me everybody,” the queen at the front trills merrily. “O69!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The announcement is followed by assorted moans and barnyard noises from the crowd. Evan giggles. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey, dude, you won!” Miguel says, peering at Evan’s card. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Evan shakes his head. “No, I’m okay…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“BINGO!” Miguel shouts, pointing at Evan. “Got a bingo over here!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Evan feels his face heat up. And before he knows it, the drag queen has sauntered over to him. “Well don’t be shy, sweetheart,” she coos into the mic for the benefit of the crowd. And then she’s leading a blushing and embarrassed Evan up to the stage where she verifies his win. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Alright sweetheart, you win!” She says. She puts a gift basket full of various gay bar paraphernalia in his hands. For good measure she tosses a handful of rainbow glitter on him and kisses his burning cheek. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Isn’t he beautiful, folks? And not a bad backside either!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Evan wants to sink into the floor. But instead he shuffles back to his seat, giggling a little. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Looks like I found my white elephant gift,” Evan mutters, gesturing at the basket. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh no, that’s dark,” Miguel cackles. “Terrible case of Murphy-itis man.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They enjoy the rest of their brunch. Miguel talks about his residency and how he might have genuinely promised someone a kidney to get the time off for Christmas. He asks inquisitive but not intrusive questions about Evan, and he actually gets really into a conversation about some of Evan’s dissertation work on the disproportionate impact climate change is having on people living in poverty. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Evan’s a little bit tipsy when they’re finally leaving the drag bar, but Miguel is stone cold sober. “I was kind of a pothead in my younger days,” he says. “But now I try to stay away from it all.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Evan nods. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I can give you a ride,” Miguel says. “Where did you want me to drop you?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Evan doesn’t know. Going back to the Murphys’ seems like a dumb move but he doesn’t have anywhere else to be, so that’s what he tells him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Miguel makes the drive like he knows how to get there by memory. Evan finds himself feeling awfully sad for Miguel and Connor as teenagers. Having to sneak around. Hide themselves. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It seems unfair. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Right now it all seems unfair. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Here,” Miguel says, “Gimme your number.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Evan blinks. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“In case you need a sanity break,” Miguel says with a shrug. “Or someone to remind you not to jam a fork into your neck.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Evan gives him his number, and Miguel texts him: </span>
</p>
<p>
  <b>Dr. M. Alvarez, expert in Murphy-itis.</b>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Evan bids him goodbye, and then he cautiously makes his way into the giant house. The door is just unlocked. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He finds it super weird. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But whatever. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He heads downstairs to the guest room. He’s surprised when he finds Connor sitting on the guest room bed. He looks upset. His eyes are red. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I tried calling,” He says. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Evan hasn’t even looked at his phone in hours. “I’m sorry.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Connor shrugs. “I’m not going to dinner tonight,” he says, holding his head up defiantly. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Okay,” Evan says. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He waits for the rest. For the part where Connor says he talked to his parents and they were understanding if a little surprised. He waits for that part. Because that has to be the next part. Right?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Connor looks down at his lap. “I thought maybe we could… just get some space tonight? From all of the.. family togetherness bullshit?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Evan frowns. “Sure.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He sits down beside Connor. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I know I said… I know I said I would tell them,” Connor says quietly. He sounds so… hurt. Like he’s in genuine pain. And Evan really hates it. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Evan knows there’s a “but” coming before it actually does. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“But. Maybe now isn’t the right time,” Connor says softly. “With all this campaign bullshit and my mom being more anal than I thought possible.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Evan sucks in a deep breath. Connor looks at him. He doesn’t know what he’s supposed to say. “Whatever you need,” Evan hears himself say hollowly. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Connor smiles a little at him. “I love you. You know how much I love you, right?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Evan nods. He wraps his arm around Connor’s shoulder and squeezes. Connor rests his head on Evan, sighing. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Was that… the post. In the article…?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Evan breathes out. “Yeah.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Do you… you ever still feel like that?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Evan stills. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He’s not sure how to even answer that. Because the obvious one - yes, definitely, but not all the time - feels dangerous. Like now isn’t the time to get into all that. It feels unsafe. Like if Evan says it, he might tip this precarious balance that Connor has in the wrong direction. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Connor is too important to risk like that. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No,” Evan says. “I don’t really. It was just… my mom had just died, you know?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Connor takes a shaky breath. “Yeah. Makes sense.”</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Chapter 7</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Drinks with old friends and a disagreement.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>This bar is crowded. But not in the cozy way their favorite dives and gay bars back home get. This is crowded, crowded. This is the kind of crowded that makes Evan’s skin crawl and his heart speed. </p><p>And to make matters worse, or at least weirder, the girls who found Connor last night have found him again. Swarmed him like locusts. Offered to buy him shots and, in a very un-Connorlike move, he agreed. He did shots with Sabrina-and-Harper-and-Sam. </p><p>He’s… drunk. </p><p>Evan’s seen Connor drunk before. </p><p>But he’s never seen back home, straight until proven gay Connor drunk before. It’s… not great. </p><p>He’s not affectionate or easily amused. He’s… guarded. Cagey. He seems sort of pissed off honestly. </p><p>And that just seems to make the girls cling on to him harder. Which. Is a whole mouthful on gender and attraction, Evan thinks. Alana would have a field day. </p><p>Connor just seems. Off. </p><p>And after a while he just plain disappears. He says something about the bathroom but after twenty minutes he’s not back, and Evan knows there’s rarely a line in a men’s bathroom at a straight bar. </p><p>Evan overhears Harper and Sam talking. “You think he’s going to get back together with Sabrina? That would be cute.”</p><p>“If she doesn’t jump on him, I will,” Harper says. “He got yummy since high school.”</p><p>“Dude he gave you <em> mono. </em>”</p><p>“No M gave me mono and they shared a joint.”</p><p>He can’t take it anymore. Evan stops scrolling aimlessly through his phone and sets off to find him. </p><p>More accurately, he finds him outside. Smoking. </p><p>Evan didn’t know Connor smoked. </p><p>But he’s chatting with Sabrina, that hunched posture back, puffing on a cigarette like a natural. </p><p>“You seriously wouldn’t vote for your dad?” Sabrina says. </p><p>“Well I’m not a good constituent,” Connor says, his tone a little biting. “But even if I was. No way. Not a chance.”</p><p>“Connor?” Evan says. </p><p>Connor’s eyes go big. He looks… scared. Caught. “Hey Ev.”</p><p>Evan takes a breath. “You kind of left me in there,” he says quietly. He doesn’t want to be a nag but. Come on. He doesn’t know these people. </p><p>“I’m sorry,” Connor says. He frowns. “It’s just. Crowded.”</p><p>Evan frowns. “Yeah. It is.” <em> And you know I hate crowds so why did you leave me in there alone?  </em></p><p>“You want one?” Sabrina asks, brandishing a cigarette. </p><p>Evan shakes his head. </p><p>She lights one and inhales deeply. Squints at Connor. “You guys are cute.”</p><p>Connor’s hand holding the cigarette he’s smoking shakes so hard that he nearly drops it. “What?” He says, his eyes big. Scared. Caught. </p><p>“You two,” Sabrina says. She gestures between them with her cigarette dangling from her fingers. “You’re a cute couple.”</p><p>Evan holds his breath. </p><p>“Oh…” Connor trails off. “Um. Yeah, we’re…”</p><p>Evan wants to grab him and shake him. Because they are a couple. They’re a fucking couple, they’ve been together for a year, and right now he really fucking needs Connor to say it. Own it. Admit to at least one person. </p><p>Connor flicks ash off the end of his cigarette. </p><p>And says nothing else. </p><p>Evan just. Can’t. He cannot deal with this. </p><p>“I think I’m gonna go,” Evan says. </p><p>“Really?” Connor says. “It’s still early.”</p><p>Evan wrinkles his nose. He can’t be here or he’s going to cry. “Yeah. I’m tired. Long night. Day. Whatever.” He gets his phone out. Orders a Lyft. “I’ll see you later?”</p><p>He waits. For Connor to agree to come home with him. For Connor to be <em> Connor.  </em></p><p>“Yeah. Sounds good. Text me when you get back, okay?”</p><p>“Cool,” Evan says. His throat is thick with tears building. “Later.”</p><hr/><p>Evan tosses and turns that night. </p><p>He’s so… angry. He’s so hurt. </p><p>This was not the trip he agreed to come on. This was not the holiday he wanted. Evan was expecting… cheesy matching Christmas pajamas and the kind of big belly laughs he and Connor have in their apartment all of the time. He was expecting cookie baking and to be told all kinds of embarrassing stories about Connor when he was little. </p><p>He wasn’t expecting to be shoved off, hidden away, treated like a charity case while Connor acted like an entirely different person. </p><p>That’s the thing that hurts most, Evan thinks. He could handle Connor’s extremely intense mom and republican dad and standoffish sister if he still had <em> Connor. </em>But it’s like he’s vanished and been replaced by this quiet and surly stranger who won’t stand up for himself. For Evan. </p><p>And then tonight? What was that? Connor letting these girls hang all over him, Connor abandoning Evan at the bar, Connor <em> smoking </em>which Evan’s never seen him do before. </p><p>And then he didn’t even acknowledge their relationship to Sabrina. Sabrina who <em> knows. </em>Sabrina who genuinely seems fine with it. </p><p>Which makes Evan’s insides squirm uncomfortably. Because if Sabrina is fine with it, then… then the problem is Connor. Connor isn’t fine with it. With people knowing about them. </p><p>Evan hates it. </p><p>He feels… alone and abandoned and so damn lonely. Lonely in a way he hasn’t felt since…</p><p>Since he was a freshman in college. Since right after his mom died. </p><p>He wasn’t there when it happened. For a long time, Evan fixated on that. Ruminated on it, on the fact that maybe if he had been there…</p><p>Maybe nothing would have been different at all. He’s not a doctor. The only difference would have been that he would have watched her die. </p><p>She was out for a walk. She used to pet sit for people too; it’s part of why Evan started offering. She was walking to a neighbor’s to let out their golden doodle while they were away on business. </p><p>By the time someone found her, she was already gone. </p><p>But for ages that just didn’t make sense to Evan. Because he had talked to her on the phone that morning. </p><p>They hadn’t argued. It hasn’t been a very meaningful conversation. They were debating if Evan could get away with having a slow cooker in his dorm room. She was worried because most kids <em> gain </em>weight in college, but Evan had lost some. Because he was too anxious to go to the dining hall alone. </p><p>And his mom wasn’t pushing like she sometimes did. Instead she offered to order him a slow cooker. </p><p>But then she was just gone. </p><p>Evan got a ride home from Alana. He had to go and ID the body. He had to figure out the funeral arrangements. Alana helped, and so did Mrs Kleinman who was an old family friend. </p><p>It just didn’t make sense to him, as he touched her cold hand, that she could just be gone. </p><p>It wasn’t for a couple of days that they confirmed that it was a brain aneurysm. And as soon as the autopsy was done, Evan was putting her in the ground. He remembers crying on Mrs. Kleinman’s shoulder about how he and his mom had learned to tie a tie together when he graduated middle school. They watched a video on their old desktop, over and over and over until they could both do it. </p><p>His mom would never straighten out his tie again. She wouldn’t call him again. It didn’t make sense. </p><p>A lot of things stopped making sense after that for Evan. Like the fact that he was alive while his mom was dead. Like the fact that he had nobody to call when things went wrong. Or when things went right. Or when he just wanted to say hi. </p><p>And he didn’t really get that again until he met Connor. </p><p>Alana was great. She was. But she was busier than god most days. Evan was lucky whenever she could squeeze him in. And she could be a little… judgmental. And it’s not like Evan is totally alone and friendless. He has friends. </p><p>But he didn’t have a family anymore. </p><p>He thought with Connor he had one. </p><p>But now he’s not so sure. </p><p>When Evan came out to his mom, he was seventeen. It was kind of a nonevent really. He told her, nervously pulling at the hem of his shirt, that he was confused. Because he used to have a crush on this girl in his physics class… but suddenly he thought he had a crush on a boy in his history class. </p><p>And she had hugged him tight and kissed the top of his head, even though he had to bend for her to do it. And she promised him she wasn’t going anywhere. That she loved him and was proud of him. That this was <em> good news. </em>“It means there are so many people in the world who you might love. It’s wonderful.”</p><p>And Evan knew she meant it. He knew. </p><p> </p><p>Evan texts Connor goodnight when he finally thinks he can drop off to sleep. </p><p>And all he got back was <b>K, night. </b></p><p>At 3:12 am. </p><p>And when he wakes up in the morning, that’s still all he has. </p><p>Evan’s worried. He’s moved past pissed off and hurt and right into being worried. That’s not like Connor. It’s not like him at all. </p><p>So Evan climbs out of his guest bed and climbs the steps to Connor’s bedroom. He knocks but doesn’t get an answer. </p><p>So Evan opens the door, scared that maybe Connor didn’t come back last night. That he’s dead in a ditch somewhere. </p><p>But he’s not. He’s in bed, his long limbs wrapped around a pillow. </p><p>Evan reaches out and touches his shoulder. “Hey.”</p><p>Connor opens his eyes slowly. Out of sync and sleepy. “Hey.”</p><p>“You alright?” Evan asks anxiously. </p><p>Connor looks confused. “Yeah. Why wouldn’t I be?”</p><p>Evan feels affronted. “You were kind of… last night was…. and you texted me at like three in the morning?”</p><p>Connor frowns a little. “I mean, we closed the bar?”</p><p>Evan nods. “I know, just…”</p><p>“I was out with my friends.” Connor’s voice is cold almost. “Cut the cord, mom, I’m fine.”</p><p>Evan recoils. “I was worried.”</p><p>Connor rolls his eyes. “I can handle myself, thanks.”</p><p>“I didn’t… that’s not what I.” Evan shakes his head. “Connor, what is going on?”</p><p>“You mean other than you being all overprotective for no reason? I mean, after yesterday’s whole suicide note debacle, it’s kind of hypocritical.”</p><p>Evan feels like he’s been slapped. “Excuse me?”</p><p>“I mean, why is this the first I’m hearing of that?” Connor says, his tone biting. “Seems like a pretty big thing to forget to mention.”</p><p>“You mean like forgetting to come out to your parents <em> before </em> you brought your <em> boyfriend </em> to Christmas?” Evan snaps. </p><p>Connor’s eyes flash. “Keep it down.”</p><p>“Jesus, seriously?” Evan says, his voice low and shaking with anger. “What happened to ‘setting them straight’ and not hiding me?” </p><p>Connor looks shocked and hurt. “You said it was fine. You said you were fine with it yesterday!”</p><p>“What was I <em> supposed </em>to say, Connor? Come out right now or else?”</p><p>Connor doesn’t say a word. Just crosses his arms and hunches his shoulders and looks upset. God, Evan hates seeing him upset. They rarely ever fight, and never like this. It’s always things like “Connor why the hell would you open a new milk carton, there’s still half of one in the fridge” or “Evan, please, can you <em> not </em>leave socks everywhere? I found some in the kitchen.” It’s never like this. Being with Connor has never made Evan feel this way; small, ashamed, insecure and needy. </p><p>“Do you have any idea how awful this has been for me?” Evan asks him, his voice cracking. “Do you - <em> I was planning to </em>- I can’t believe you just expect me to be fine with this, Connor. This is not what I signed up for. This is not what you said it was going to be.”</p><p>“Don’t you think I know that?” Connor says, and his cheeks are flushed with anger, his hands are balled into tight fists. “Don’t you get that I know how much I’ve fucked this all up? I know, okay, I got you into this without thinking and now we’re both miserable but. Just. You don’t understand how hard it is to try to… to be myself around my family. Around these people and their expectations and social niceties and all of that bullshit. I wish I could pretend that I’m, like, totally immune to the fact that my whole family thinks I’m a freak, but I’m not, okay? I’m just not and I… This is harder than I thought it would be and I thought you’d get that.”</p><p>“Maybe I would,” Evan says softly, “If you actually bothered to tell me any of this before now. I don’t get you, it’s like ever since we got here you’ve got, like, everything locked up in some vault and now you’re pissed at me that I can’t guess the fucking combination.”</p><p>Connor shakes his head. His whole expression just goes totally blank.  “I don’t… Look, maybe we need some space.”</p><p>Evan laughs. He genuinely laughs. Connor’s got to be joking. He’s got to be fucking joking right now.  “Space? <em> Space? </em> I’ve barely seen you since we got here! How much fucking space do you <em> need? </em>”</p><p>Connor’s eyes fall to his lap. </p><p>Evan shakes his head. Gets up and storms off, passing Mrs. Murphy in the hallway. </p><p>This is bull. This is such fucking bullshit. </p><p>Evan rushes to the guest room. Pulls up Lyft to look for a ride back home. </p><p>$2317.97</p><p>Fuck. </p><p>Fuck fuck <em> fuck.  </em></p><p>Evan barely even registers that his phone is buzzing in his hand for a full thirty seconds. </p><p>Alana. </p><p>He answers. “Hey.”</p><p>Alana sucks in a deep breath. “Okay, so…I feel that perhaps I might have been a little judgmental when we last spoke.”</p><p>Evan rolls his eyes. “You think?”</p><p>Alana sucks in another breath. “I recognize that you are in a challenging situation. You need support, and, as your friend, I should have created a safe space for you to share without the threat of criticism, so… I’m sorry.”</p><p>Evan breathes out. “Thanks.”</p><p>“What’s going on, Evan? I’m here.”</p><p>Evan lets out this hollow laugh. “Well, let’s see. Connor’s entire family thinks I’m some kind of, like, psycho, because some asshat found my status from freshman year online and posted about it in relation to his dad's campaign. And Connor’s like, I don’t even know, Lon, it’s like he’s this person I’ve never even met before. He’s distant and pissed off and scary quiet and even though we’ve barely gotten to spend any time together since we got here, now he wants <em> space. </em> Because get this - <em> he’s </em> mad at <em> me </em> for not telling him about my mental health crisis from almost a decade ago even though <em> he </em> is the one who’s lying to everyone about me. And his family, Lon, they’re, like, insane. Like Stepford WASPs or something. I just want to go home but it would cost me two grand to get a ride and… I fucking <em> hate </em> Christmas, honestly. It’s just this time that does nothing but make everyone tense and angry and bitter. And I… I miss my <em> mom </em> and I hate this. I really hate this.”</p><p>“That sounds so hard.”</p><p>Evan exhales unevenly. “What do I do? Like… I know this isn’t <em> about </em> me but it’s… it’s not <em> not </em>about me either, you know? I feel like I’m losing my mind.”</p><p>“Oh Evan, I’m so sorry.”</p><p>“What do I do? Do I stick it out for two days or… is that crazy?”</p><p>“I can’t tell you what to do,” Alana says softly. “I wish I could, but we both know that wouldn’t be fair. This is your decision.”</p><p>“Jesus you are no help at all!” Evan gripes. </p><p>“I trust you. You’re going to make the decision that’s right for you.” Alana sighs. “Look, I gotta go, my dad is… You can figure this out, Evan. I swear.”</p><p>And then the call ends. Without even a goodbye like this is some damn made for TV movie. </p><p>Evan shakes his head. </p><p>Damn it. </p><p>He makes a possibly stupid decision, but if he doesn’t talk to another human person his head is going to pop off of his shoulders. </p><p>He dials. </p><p>Miguel picks up. </p><p>“Is there any chance you’re free?” Evan asks. “I know it’s Christmas Eve but I still don’t have a stupid white elephant gift and I need to get out of here for a while.”</p><p>“Yeah, of course. I’ll pick you up in ten?”</p><p>“Thank you,” Evan breathes.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Chapter 8</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Christmas Eve is full of... something.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>With Miguel’s guidance, Evan’s ended up with a mini waffle maker. “I don’t know why you wouldn’t just buy toaster waffles?” Evan says honestly. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh trust me on this. Rich white folks are all about this kind of shit. Making things unnecessarily complicated for kicks.” Miguel laughs a bit. “I saw Brian almost punch Connor’s cousin Alex out over a quesadilla maker last year.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Evan shakes his head. “That’s so dumb.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Miguel’s phone buzzes. He smiles. “Hey, look at this,” he says. says, holding out his phone. He’s got Instagram pulled up to overheardatagaybar. The post reads, “Going home for Christmas is fun because you get to see your high school teachers on Grindr. ‘Loved ur AP Bio Class. Wut u into?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Evan laughs, shaking his head. “Please tell me you didn’t submit that.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Miguel laughs a bit. “I am grateful every day that my AP Bio teacher was Ms. Locke-Gaus. She was about ninety years old and wasn’t entirely clear on DNA.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“How the hell did you get into medical school with a teacher like that?” Evan wonders outloud. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Miguel grins. “Sheer force of will.” His smile fades a little bit. “Also, I got diagnosed with depression and stopped smoking weed about all of my problems. Really helped me out academically. Not to knock weed, but it just really wasn’t, like, actually addressing any of my shit, you know?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Evan nods, “Yeah, that makes sense. I…” He blows out a breath. “I actually took a couple of years off of school because my mental health wasn’t, like, great.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Miguel clicks his tongue sympathetically, “Yeah, I feel you. I took a gap year, actually? Before undergrad.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Take time to go find yourself somewhere foreign?” Evan asks. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Miguel shakes his head good naturedly. “No, I just couldn’t fucking afford college. I worked. I was a CNA all through school.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Evan feels his smile sag a little. “Oh. I guess I kind of thought…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That I was one of the bourgie-wannabes from around here?” Miguel says. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Evan frowns a bit. “Caught me.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Miguel smiles. “It’s all good, don’t worry. I was a scholarship kid at the private school where I met Connor. I’ve got a single mom and a little brother. My mom? She cleans houses. The only reason we get invited to the Murphy Family Christmas party every year is because she used to be their housekeeper.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Evan feels extremely embarrassed. “I’m sorry. I… It’s just that everyone around here -”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I get it,” Miguel says. “It’s no big, really. Just figured it was worth it to clear that up.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Evan sighs. “I’m so sorry.” He shakes his head. “The only reason I can afford to be in grad school is because when my mom died, she had this big life insurance policy? She… she was actually a CNA too? And not long before she died, she’d finally finished going back to school to be a paralegal.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s really cool,” Miguel says. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah it was. Like it definitely, y’know. Made me think that like, you’re never too old to change your life or whatever? Like. She was a mom and had had a whole career but she wanted something different.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I think that’s really cool,” Miguel says. “It’s gotta be hard, not having her here.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Evan nods. His heart hurts the way it always does when he talks about his mom. “Like, it kind of… I really hate that she and Connor never got to meet, y’know? It really…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Miguel says. “You want your people to know each other. Makes sense.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Evan nods, thinking to himself that. Well. He’d settle for feeling like </span>
  <em>
    <span>he</span>
  </em>
  <span> knew his people at this point. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Evan’s phone buzzes with a text. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Connor. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <b>This morning sucked, and I’m really sorry. </b>
</p>
<p>
  <b>You’re totally right, I’m not okay and taking it out on you is bullshit.</b>
</p>
<p>
  <b>Can we talk tonight?</b>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Did you believe in Santa as a kid?” Miguel asks, changing topics easily. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Evan nods. “Yeah. It’s kind of funny, really. My mom was half Jewish, so we did like. Combination Hanukkah and Christmas. You know, Menorah and a tree, latkes and egg nog. And so Santa in my house didn’t just get cookies and milk, but he also got Gelt and latkes.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Miguel smiles at that. “That’s great. Your Santa was a lucky one.” He puts his hands into his pockets and shrugs. “I uh. So I’m the older sibling, right, and so I got let in on the Santa secret early because like… we were broke. But that just meant that I… way over committed to the whole thing.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh yeah?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Miguel nods. “Oh yeah, I’m talking flour footprints in the kitchen reindeer tracks in the yard. And the worse thing is, Diego, my little brother? I dunno if he was really gullible or knew I was trying so hard to help, like, be Santa? Because he didn’t own up to knowing he wasn’t real until he was genuinely almost thirteen.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No,” Evan says with a laugh. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah. My mom used to joke that he was going to grow up and move out and she’d still have to sneak over to put presents under his tree in the middle of the night,” Miguel says. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Will your brother be at the soiree tonight?” Evan asks. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Miguel nods. “Little punkass better be,” He says affectionately. “I totally covered for him when he got busted by my mom for being drunk the other night. He’s underage still, but his friends are all twenty-one by now. You can just tell he’s seething with jealousy that he can’t go out to the bars with them.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Evan nods. He remembers being that age, when being able to go to a bar seemed like the height of adulthood. “That’s actually like… Really cool of you. I always wanted an older sibling growing up, is that weird? It just seemed nice to have someone who was always there to watch your back.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Miguel nods. “Not as nice for the person doing the watching, of course. But yeah, pretty much.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, probably.” Evan sighs. “I probably shouldn’t be asking you this but since Connor’s…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Miguel sighs. “To be honest, I don’t know a whole lot about Zoe.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“She just seems…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Unpleasant?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Evan says. He frowns. “I just… I don’t get it? Connor used to tell me these stories about her growing up, and sure, he said they weren’t exactly </span>
  <em>
    <span>close </span>
  </em>
  <span>but...  Now she just seems sort of. Mean. Bitter.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Miguel frowns a bit. “I just know that, like, some shit went down between them in high school. They were constantly at each other’s throats. It didn’t matter what one of them did, the other found a reason to be pissed off about it. Zoe made honor roll, and Connor destroyed one of her textbooks once. Connor won an essay contest and Zoe </span>
  <em>
    <span>accidentally </span>
  </em>
  <span>spilled water on his laptop.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Damn,” Evan says. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s like… they fought like cats and dogs. It didn’t matter what happened, they were always trying to tear each other down. Really that’s all I know.” Miguel gives Evan a kind of lopsided smile. “But that’s just my outsider’s perspective. The real story, I’m sure, would be better from Connor.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, assuming he’s still speaking to me after all this,” Evan says. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sucks, man. I’ve been there and… it sucks.”</span>
</p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <span>Evan puts off going back to the Murphys’ as long as is feasible without seeming like he just left town entirely. The house is a flurry of activity, with Mrs. Murphy rushing from room to room, a gleam of panic in her eyes while Mr. Murphy sort of mutters to himself. Brian is parked on the sofa, staring absently into an empty highball glass. Connor’s nowhere to be found, unsurprisingly, while Zoe is already dressed and ready for the party. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Which Evan learns when he walks to the guest room and hears Zoe’s voice coming from inside and, without thinking, pushes the door open just as she’s saying, “Cristina... Babe, listen, Cristina, I know, but it’s just for a few more months. I know you think it’s gross and homophobic, Cris, but I… Look, I don’t know how else to explain that I love you but I just need to keep my parents happy until I graduate and then -”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She stops cold when she turns around to see Evan in the doorway. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ll call you back,” She says, hanging up the phone quickly. Her eyes narrow on Evan. “How much did you hear?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Enough that Evan has now learned that, 1. Zoe loves someone named Cristina and 2. It appears her fiance Brian is all some elaborate heterosexual rouse to get tuition money out of her parents. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Evan would be impressed if the whole thing weren’t so horrible. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Man, this family desperately needed therapy. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I didn’t hear anything,” Evan says. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Zoe’s eyes narrow menacingly, but it flickers and fades fast. She sighs. “Look. There’s no excuse for me being so cunty to you. Being home stresses me out, and seeing Connor stresses me out and… You know I’m studying to be a clinical social worker? Like, a therapist. And yet here I am, doing all of the shit they tell you not to do in therapy…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Evan nods his head. “That… it’s gotta be so hard.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Zoe sighs. “You have no idea.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m not going to tell,” Evan volunteers. “I… I won’t say anything. I think it’s a pretty shitty thing to do to someone.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Zoe nods. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That newspaper thing was… I’m sorry about that.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That was you?” Evan says, his heart sinking. Some fucking therapist she’ll make. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No, god no, but…” She sighs uncomfortably. “It was my dad’s fucking PR guy. I heard them gloating about how approachable and whatever it made him appear to potential voters.” She crosses her arms and hunches her shoulders. “Potential victims, more like.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Evan opens and closes his mouth a few times. He has no idea what to say back to that. He doesn’t want a vulnerable moment with Connor’s sister. He doesn’t know what the hell to do with it. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sorry for invading your space,” Zoe says. “Normally this is where I stay.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Evan nods. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Once Zoe leaves, Evan gets changed. He keeps thinking about Alana insisting that he knew what to do. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He so does not. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>This was like the opposite of knowing what you’re doing. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Evan goes upstairs with his stupid gift wrapped waffle maker while Mrs. Murphy tries and fails to get everyone into the family photo again. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“People are supposed to arrive soon,” Mr. Murphy says, sounding bored. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We have to do this Larry or we might as well just have to concede the election right now. Damn it, Zoe, Connor, get down here!” She turns on Evan. “And what are you doing just standing there?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, I… The white elephant? I didn’t know where…?” Evan tries and fails to explain. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“In the damn oven, Evan, Jesus, where do you </span>
  <em>
    <span>think? </span>
  </em>
  <span>Put it under the tree.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Evan swallows hard. His nerves are fried. He feels about fifteen seconds from totally cracking open to reveal a Russian doll of smaller and more pathetic Evans standing around cluelessly. “I’m s-s-sorry,” he stutters out, “I w-wasn’t, I’m sorry to bother you -”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Mrs. Murphy breathes in deeply. “I’m so sorry, sweetheart, this party has my nerves rattled. You poor thing, you probably didn’t even have a Christmas tree as a child at the orphanage.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Evan feels his face twist. “I did, actually. And a menorah. I grew up in a multi faith house.” He straightens his shoulders. “And my mom was around until I was nineteen so. Please stop calling me an orphan. Ma’am.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>That shuts her up for a moment. It’s blissfully quiet. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Of course,” she says with this tight smile. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ll just…” Evan says, scooting around her to place his gift under the tree. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Do you… your </span>
  <em>
    <span>illness…</span>
  </em>
  <span>” Mrs. Murphy says delicately. “They don’t by chance give you anything for your nerves do they? It’s just that this party is so important to Larry and I need to be put together.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Evan laughs. He fucking laughs. “Sorry, I don’t follow.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Do the doctors give you… Something to help a person… calm down?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Evan pastes on a smile. “Are you asking me for drugs, ma’am?” He says innocently. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Her face flushes. It’s one of the first times he’s seen her crack. “No! Of course not, no, that’s…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Evan smiles bigger. “Don’t worry, Mrs. Murphy. I won’t say anything.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Connor only appears downstairs when people start showing up in droves. He looks… awful honestly. Pale and tired. He comes to stand beside Evan, and Evan can smell smoke on him. Normally this would be the kind of thing that might send Evan into a panicked frenzy. The kind of moment where he might all but drag Connor back to bed bodily. But apparently Connor needs </span>
  <em>
    <span>space, </span>
  </em>
  <span>so Evan keeps his mouth shut. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Where’d you go all day?” Connor says. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Just giving you space,” Evan replies coolly. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Fuck space,” Connor says. He looks sad and drained and Evan can’t even take any satisfaction in it. “I saw Miguel pick you up earlier?” There’s something unsure and sad in his voice. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah he was helping me figure out a white elephant gift,” Evan replies. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Are you… you’re trying to make me jealous or…?” Connor says, sounding kind of helpless. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No.” Evan hasn’t even thought of it that way. “I just figured your exes were all fair game, since you spent the whole week with Sabrina.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Connor pulls his shoulders in more. “It’s not like that… I wouldn’t do that to you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Evan frowns. “You’ve done a lot of stuff I never thought you’d do.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Connor looks like Evan punched him. Evan leaves him standing here. Maybe it’s not the most adult thing to do. Or even the fair thing to do. But he feels like it’s all he </span>
  <em>
    <span>can </span>
  </em>
  <span>do or else he will make a scene. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Evan moves across the room and to the bar. He gets the so called “specialty cocktail.” It tastes strongly of allspice and nothing else. It’s disgusting, but Evan powers through it because he needs </span>
  <em>
    <span>something </span>
  </em>
  <span>before he actually stabs himself with a cocktail fork. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>People have filtered into the house. They’re all mulling about and chatting. Before long, Miguel finds Evan. He’s flanked by his mom, this small woman with careful eyes and dark hair pulled into a simple braid, and a gangly young man looking longingly at the bar. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey. Mom, Diego, this is Evan. He’s Connor’s… friend,” Miguel says, sounding apologetic. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Miguel’s mom shakes his hand. Hers are dry and warm. “So nice to meet you,” she says. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You too. Merry Christmas.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Diego and Miguel’s mom leads her younger son over to say hello to Mrs. Murphy. Miguel points to the glass in Evan’s hand. “What’s that?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Evan has no clue. “Some kind of spiced alcohol?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Miguel laughs. “Gross. Can I try it?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Evan makes a face. He thought Miguel didn’t drink. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Is that bad? Will one sip kill me?” Miguel laughs. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Probably,” Evan says with a smile. “I thought you stayed away from…?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Miguel sighs. “Oh I do. But I like to practice harm reduction rather than full on abstinence. And based on your expression, this might be the nudge into abstinence.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Evan smiles. He hands the glass over. Miguel takes a sip and then immediately frowns, his face the picture of disgust. “Okay, nope, that’s horrible. We’re getting you a real drink. Come on.” Evan follows him over to the bar and Miguel craftily dumps the first drink out in the sink while the bartender is making Evan a vodka soda. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sorry,” Evan says, “Just… this week, everybody seems to be remaking the truth to whatever’s most convenient.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Miguel frowns deeply. “Yeah, I get that.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Harm reduction?” Evan says once he has a drink in hand. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Miguel’s eyes less than subtly flicker over in the direction of Connor talking with Sabrina. “Yeah. I have some friends who struggle with addiction. It’s more effective overall.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Huh,” Evan says. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He and Miguel chat some more. He asks Evan about Hanukkah. “Did we miss it this year?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Evan shakes his head. “Nah, it’s still going. Until the thirtieth.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, Happy Hanukkah then man.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Evan smiles. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The party is kind of boring honestly, even though Miguel is giving him a running commentary on all of the guests. Evan watches Connor get introduced to so many fancy people. Donors, Evan thinks. Donors and potential voters. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So. Did you always want to go into environmental science?” Miguel asks. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Evan kind of nods. “Sort of? I was really into nature as a kid. Trees especially. And when I was, like, eight I realized that Earth Day was about like. Saving the trees? I went home and tried to get my mom to throw out all of our plastic.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Miguel laughs. “Oh man, that’s great. Did she let you do it?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No way, man,” Evan says. “We were too broke for that. But she did agree to try to avoid styrofoam.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Your mom sounds so great,” Miguel says. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“She… Yeah. My mom was the best,” Evan says. His eyes scan the room. Connor is wearing this wooden expression while he shakes hands with some old white man and that’s when it happens. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The door bursts open dramatically and of all people, Alana Beck swoops into the party. She’s wearing this bright red jacket and Doc Martens and looks like a lesbian Little Red Riding Hood who could fuck you up if you cross her. “Evan! Evan Hansen?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Evan looks at Miguel who is watching with bright eyes. “I don’t know who that is, but she’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>fabulous.</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Evan?!” Alana calls again, looking around. “Where are you?!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ll be…” Evan puts down his drink and crosses the room to Alana. She looks freaked out. Her eyes are wild as she looks around. When she spots him, she grabs him by the shoulders and looks him over like she’s checking for signs of physical injury.  “Hey, what are you -?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Evan, who is this?” Mrs. Murphy seems to materialize out of thin air. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“This is Alana…” he tries. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Is she your girlfriend?” Mrs. Murphy says, her eyebrows up. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Alana doesn’t miss a beat. She rolls her eyes dramatically.  “Yes, obviously. I am deeply and heterosexually in love with Evan but I abandoned him on Christmas because I don’t value him as much as I should.  I’ve come here to apologize and win him back. In a straight way.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Mrs. Murphy can’t seem to hide her surprise. “Oh. Well. I wish I had </span>
  <em>
    <span>known</span>
  </em>
  <span> you were bringing a date. But since you’re here, enjoy!” She hurries off. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Evan whips around to look at Alana. “What are you doing here?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Alana grabs his hand. “This is a rescue mission.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What?” Evan asks, not following. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You have </span>
  <em>
    <span>got </span>
  </em>
  <span>to get out of here,” Alana says. “I was wrong before, leaving you to figure this out on your own. That call was clearly a cry for help. You need support and someone who isn’t as close to the situation to tell you that this - that </span>
  <em>
    <span>Connor</span>
  </em>
  <span> is behaving like- trash. You deserve so much better and I’m taking you home. Go get your things. We’re getting out of his patriarchal wet dream right now.”</span>
</p>
<p><span>“I can’t just…” Evan tries. But then he spots Connor with his </span><em><span>arm around Sabrina, </span></em><span>talking with some random old white man who is boisterous and saying something about</span> <span>a border wall, and Evan sees Alana is right. He needs fucking rescuing and she’s shown up, his night in shining Doc Martens, to get him out of here before his body is stolen and given to an infirm republican.  “How did you even know where I was?”</span></p>
<p>
  <span>“The government is tracking you!” Alana says, annoyed. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>I’m</span>
  </em>
  <span> the government, Evan, honestly! You think I couldn’t use your cell data to figure out where you were?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Evan does not have time to get into that with her right now. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Just one minute.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Evan strides determinedly up to Connor and Sabrina and he plants his feet. Balls his hands. “I’m done. I can’t do this. This is… this is crap and you know it. I’m done. This is over.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Connor’s face falls. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Evan turns and heads down the steps to the guest room. He throws his bag on the bed and starts packing frantically, shoving his things into the suitcase without even looking at them. He’s got to go before he feels worse. He’s got to go before he hates himself more for being here at all. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Evan, wait,” Connor says, and he’s in the room now. He’s pale and looks upset. “Please don’t go.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I can’t do this. I can’t do this for you anymore. I’m sick of hiding and pretending I’m fine watching you say </span>
  <em>
    <span>nothing </span>
  </em>
  <span>when your family treats me like dirt. Treats </span>
  <em>
    <span>you </span>
  </em>
  <span>like dirt. So I’m done.” Evan swings his bag over his shoulder. “Have a merry Christmas.” He starts to walk away. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Evan, please -” Connor looks like a very desperate person to Evan right now, and he nearly gives in. Nearly. He hates seeing Connor in pain. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No, I gotta go. I’m not interested in watching the person I love hide me anymore,” Evan says shortly. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m not hiding you,” Connor says softly, his eyes big and pleading. “I’m hiding… me. I’m hiding </span>
  <em>
    <span>everything</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Evan rolls his eyes. “Connor, come on -”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m a liar, and I know that, and I’m </span>
  <em>
    <span>so</span>
  </em>
  <span> sorry,” Connor says, his voice desperate. “But… my whole life. I never </span>
  <em>
    <span>fit </span>
  </em>
  <span>here. And my parents… they did everything they could to make me fit. Make me </span>
  <em>
    <span>normal. </span>
  </em>
  <span>And I hated them for it, hated them for making me feel like this freak. So I got out… but I look at you. And how much you miss your mom, and I. My parents are still here. Shouldn’t I want to have them in my life while I still can? Don’t I owe it to them to at least try to have a relationship?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“How dare you bring my mom into this?” Evan says, moving around Connor to the door. “What the hell is the matter with you?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Evan, come on, please. I… I don’t want to lose you,” Connor says, begging. “Please don’t go. Please. I’ll fix it, I’ll…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah you’ve said that before,” Evan says. “You’ve been saying it this whole time and it doesn’t mean anything without follow through-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Connor grabs Evan’s wrist. “Please. I know I fucked up. I know I’m… </span>
  <em>
    <span>I’m </span>
  </em>
  <span>fucked up. I know that. Don’t you think I know that? This whole trip, my dad has been on my case to delay publishing my book because it might look bad for his </span>
  <em>
    <span>campaign. </span>
  </em>
  <span>To keep it under wraps until he secured the election. And I didn’t do anything about it! I said nothing, even though it’s something I’ve worked on for years. I don’t. I don’t know how to be myself around them. I don’t know how to be myself with anyone but you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Your </span>
  <em>
    <span>dad </span>
  </em>
  <span>is the one who had that article published!” Evan whispers. “He’s the one who made sure the whole world found out about me being </span>
  <em>
    <span>sick! </span>
  </em>
  <span>Do you have any idea how much that hurts?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Connor stares at his toes. “I… I do, okay? Because when I was a kid I tried to… when I was eighteen, I tried to kill myself. Some reporter found out and he was going to publish a story so my dad used yours to make it look like a cheap shot at us. I’m sorry. I didn’t know until it had already happened and I… I gave him hell for it yesterday, I swear.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Why didn’t you </span>
  <em>
    <span>tell </span>
  </em>
  <span>me?” Evan asks. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I was scared you… I was scared you might leave.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Because of something that happened almost a decade ago?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Connor shakes his head. “Because I… it. I’m still… I’m doing better now, but it’s still not. I’m still not…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Evan can’t believe this. “So, what I’m hearing is that you’re a liar and you’ve been one this whole time. Great. Thanks for clearing that up.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Evan.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No, no, fuck this. I am not letting you shove me back into the closet just because you’re too scared to be honest with me. I’m going.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Connor lets out this small, broken noise. “Please don’t leave me here alone,” he begs, his hands clinging and almost painful. “Please.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Evan’s resolve wobbles for just a moment. Because Connor is kissing him. And it makes him weak. “I love you and I’m so sorry,” Connor says between kisses. “Please. Please don’t leave me here with them alone.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The door flies open. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And there’s Mr. Murphy, standing there and looking very, very unhappy. Furious in fact. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Connor flies away from Evan like some external force has grabbed him. His cheeks flush red and he stares at the floor. “Dad, I can explain-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Mr. Murphy stares. “No,” he says, his voice low. “Not in my house.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Connor’s face goes white. “Dad, no, okay? This is getting out of hand… Evan’s my boyfriend. I love him and I’m not going to pretend otherwise.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I know that. </span>
  <em>
    <span>This </span>
  </em>
  <span>is precisely what I’ve been trying to avoid since you arrived.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You </span>
  <em>
    <span>knew?</span>
  </em>
  <span>” Evan says to Mr. Murphy. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Of course I knew,” he snaps. “My team has been covering up Connor’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>lifestyle </span>
  </em>
  <span>for months.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“My lifestyle?” Connor says hollowly. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You think I wouldn’t find you out? Honestly Connor you’re not as subtle as you think. You wrote your undergraduate thesis on AIDS literature.” Mr. Murphy crosses his arms over his chest. He looks at Evan. “I think it’s best if you leave. My family has some matters to attend to.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Already gone,” Evan says, pushing past them. He hurries up the steps, his heart pounding. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Evan wait!” Connor says chasing after him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Don’t you dare say a word, Connor!” Mr. Murphy thunders. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What’s going on?” Zoe says, looking spooked at the top of the stairs. “Why are you yelling?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Because dad is being a prick and trying to kick Evan out!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You can’t kick someone out if they are already leaving,” Evan snaps. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“God, Connor,” Zoe says, sounding beyond frustrated. “Do you have to make yourself the center of attention wherever you go?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh please,” Connor growls. “We all know you’d rather it were you. That’s why you’ve been lying to everyone for the last few years!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Zoe’s face turns red and blotchy. “Shut up Connor, I’m not the liar here-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You mean </span>
  <em>
    <span>other</span>
  </em>
  <span> than you and Brian’s little charade?” Connor says caustically. “Does that not count?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Mr. Murphy freezes. “What?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Connor’s breathing heavily. He looks furious. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Zoe’s face goes white. “Evan is Connor’s boyfriend, dad!” She says immediately. “Connor’s gay and he’s been </span>
  <em>
    <span>lying </span>
  </em>
  <span>to you for years!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No, that’s not-!” Connor stops himself. “Zoe and Brian are pretending to be a couple so you’ll pay for her to go to school!” Connor shouts. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Everything goes silent. From across the room, Evan watches Brian’s face go tight with fear. Zoe’s goes redder and more blotchy. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Zoe? Is this true?” Mr. Murphy says. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Zoe looks so devastated. But she holds her head up high. “Yeah. Yeah, actually. We’re faking it. We’ve been faking it the whole time because you and mom are so… fucking unbelievable. If I’m not </span>
  <em>
    <span>useful </span>
  </em>
  <span>in helping to craft your image, then I’m no use to you. So we gave you what you wanted - a nice, normal straight couple. Brian’s got a boyfriend in Chicago, and I’ve been dating a woman named Cristina for over a year.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The silence that follows is deafening. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Mrs. Murphy looks near tears when she finally seems to find her voice. “You’re… </span>
  <em>
    <span>you’re </span>
  </em>
  <span>gay?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Bisexual, not that it matters,” Zoe says. “You only want me around if I’m your perfect, </span>
  <em>
    <span>normal </span>
  </em>
  <span>daughter so I decided not to tell you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Mrs. Murphy looks at Connor, her eyes glistening. “And you’re…? You’re gay too?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Connor takes a breath. “I’m. I’m…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Evan sees Miguel watching from across the room. He doesn’t look amused like many of the other partygoers. In fact, he looks kind of sick. Like he might throw up. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes,” Connor says to his mother, his voice carrying. “I’m gay. And I’ve been trying to tell you for weeks but you never let me </span>
  <em>
    <span>talk! </span>
  </em>
  <span>I’ve tried to… Evan’s my boyfriend. I’m in love with him. We live together, and we’re in love, and I’m </span>
  <em>
    <span>sick</span>
  </em>
  <span> of pretending.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Evan stares. He stares and takes in everyone else around them also staring. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re joking,” Mrs. Murphy says. “He’s joking,” she says to the crowd. “Connor’s always been a real comedian, he’s-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m not,” Connor says, his voice quiet and heartbroken. “I’m not joking. I’m gay. I’ve known since I was ten years old.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Mrs. Murphy shakes her head. “No. No, that… I can’t have two gay children.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You don’t,” Zoe says dryly. “I’m bisexual. Are you even listening?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Larry, talk to them,” Mrs. Murphy implores. She sounds desperate. Pleading. “Tell them they can’t do this so close to the election.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh for the love of god Cynthia don’t you think I’ve been trying to cover their tracks?” Mr. Murphy snaps. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Connor’s shoulders are shaking. “It’s not a lie or a ploy or… I’m gay. I’m gay and I’m tried and I’m sorry if that’s not what you want to hear but it’s the truth.” Connor looks over at Evan.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I did it. Okay? I told them. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Please</span>
  </em>
  <span> don’t go.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And Evan realizes that Alana was right after all. Because he knows exactly what he needs to do. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Thank you for having me,” He says to the Murphys. “But I don’t belong here.” Evan walks to the door. Looks at Connor.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Connor looks back, his eyes shining. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well?” Evan says. “Are you coming?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Connor doesn’t move. He drops his gaze to the floor. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>So that’s his answer. That’s his answer then. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Alana takes Evan’s arm and says, her voice quiet and firm, “Let’s go.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>So Evan goes. </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. Chapter 9</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>There is something tragic about the fact that queer people choose their families.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Alana is a good driver, Evan thinks as he wipes his eyes. Alana passes him a tissue and doesn’t speak, which he appreciates. She’s giving him space. Space he desperately needs right now to figure out how the fuck he’s feeling. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Rejected. Abandoned. Like the life he built with Connor was all this elaborate prank and Ashton Kutcher just came out and said he’d been Punk’d. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>After a while, Alana pulls over at this 24-hour truck stop diner. Evan feels kind of immediately nervous. Truck stop diners aren’t like the safest places for queer people or Black people to be, he thinks. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Come on,” Alana says. “Let’s just. Get some food in you. Carbs will help.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Is that a good idea?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Alana nods. “I know this place.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They get out of the car and step into the diner. It’s empty save for two men sitting alone at different booths. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey gorgeous!” A server greets them cheerfully. He looks oddly familiar. “Wow, two times in one week? I ought to be flattered!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Evan blinks, and realizes with a jolt that the server is the drag queen from BINGO yesterday. “Uh! Hi! I didn’t realize you worked here!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He smiles. His name tag reads “Thom.” “Old family business,” he explains. “You two prefer a table or a booth?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Booth would be good,” Alana says. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What brings you two out tonight? Traveling for the holiday?” Thom asks. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“More like escaping the holiday,” Evan says glumly. “My boyfriend invited me to Christmas with his family but he’s not out yet and it was kind of a mess.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That snack from yesterday?” Thom asks. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Evan shakes his head and ignores Alana’s look of confusion. “No, uh. That’s his ex actually.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You poor thing,” Thom says sympathetically. “Alana, you want your usual?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Evan looks surprised. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I stop here a lot, on my way back from the capital,” she explains. “Usual would be good, Thom.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thom nods. “And for you, sweetheart?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Evan hasn’t even cracked a menu. He looks quickly, then orders a hot chocolate and a pecan waffle. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thom looks at him seriously. “Want me to make that hot chocolate Irish for you?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Evan sighs. “Can’t hurt at this point.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thom nods and heads off toward the kitchen. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Alana reaches out and takes Evan’s hand, giving it a squeeze. “I’m so sorry this trip wasn’t what you wanted.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Evan squeezes Alana’s hand back tightly. “I just… this wasn’t what I expected.” He looks down at the table. “The holidays with my mom were always just… Warm? Nice? Even though it was just the two of us, it was always just… Happy. We’d just… make all this food and hang out.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Alana nods. “That sounds really nice.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thom drops their drinks off. Evan has a sip. It’s sweet and warm and burns a little on the way down. It helps a little, relaxing the tightness and pain that’s been building there. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thom brings their food by, and asks if he can do anything. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Evan says bitterly. He slaps the ring he had made for Connor on the table. “You wanna tell me what I should do with this now that my boyfriend and I are through?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What makes you think you’re through?” Thom asks. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Trust me, it’s over,” Alana says. “The way he treated Evan this past week? It’s definitely over. Connor Murphy is toxic.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thom looks sad. “That’s a shame. It’s a beautiful ring.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Thanks,” Evan says. “It’s made from this pair of earrings my mom loved? I like. Wanted it to sort of be… like. A way to make us family officially. But obviously that’s not happening.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thom nods. “Can I ask what was so bad? I mean the not being out thing sounds hard, but I imagine there’s more to it.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“He invited me home without telling his parents who I was,” Evan explains. “And then every time he tried to come out to them, they’d cut him off and he’d… let them. He never once stood up for me or himself. It was like he was a totally different person with his family around.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thom frowns. “That sounds like it must have been hard for both of you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, well, it’s not like he talked to me about it,” Evan says. “It just… he’s not who I thought he was. I thought he was brave and strong, but when it came down to it, he chickened out.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Let me play devil’s advocate for just a minute here,” Thom says thoughtfully. “Because I’ve been around the block a few times. What kind of family does he come from?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Wealthy republicans,” Alana says. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Evan nods. “Very like… Stepfordish.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Right,” Thom says. “And he tried to tell them but they wouldn’t listen?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Not that it matters,” Alana says. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“He did </span>
  <em>
    <span>try,</span>
  </em>
  <span>” Evan says softly. “But after a while he… it was like he gave up.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Again, just because I’m old but… you’re breaking up with him because he’s scared to come out to his family?” Thom says. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No, I’m breaking up with him because he clearly doesn’t love me as much as I love him,” Evan says miserably. “I would have never done what he did.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So your parents, they’ve met him?” Thom asks sympathetically. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Evan shakes his head. “Well. No. My dad’s not in the picture and my mom died when I was nineteen.” He sighs. “But if I had the option? Yes. My family would have met him. Immediately.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Evan definitely wouldn’t have lied to his mom about his boyfriend,” Alana says. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thom sighs. “Maybe I’m just a bleeding heart type, but honestly? I feel pretty sorry for anyone who tries to share themselves with their family and gets shut down.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Evan’s stomach churns guiltily. “What do you mean?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thom heaves a heavy sigh. “Something that’s always sort of bothered me about the whole mainstream coming out narrative is this thing about chosen family, honestly. I blame RuPaul honestly. Yes, as queer folks, we </span>
  <em>
    <span>do</span>
  </em>
  <span> get to chose our familes, but not a lot of attention is ever paid to </span>
  <em>
    <span>why</span>
  </em>
  <span> we have chosen families. And it’s because, for a lot of us, the families we come from reject us once the truth comes out. Queer people </span>
  <em>
    <span>have</span>
  </em>
  <span> to make new families because the ones we come from don’t want us anymore. And that’s… traumatic. It’s not beautiful or nice, it’s… sad. And painful. So yeah, maybe your boyfriend doesn’t love you as much as you love him. Or maybe, he knows deep down that telling his family the truth means that their relationship will end, and he was trying to keep that from happening any way that he could.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Evan swallows hard. Thom annoyingly has a point, one that interrupts Evan’s righteous anger, the energy that led him to walk away. “It doesn’t make it okay.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I never said it did. I just said maybe… maybe it’s not as simple as just coming out.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Evan nods. “I guess… I mean. When I came out to my mom, she congratulated me.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“My dad too. He told me he was proud of me.” Alana nods. “I guess I… I mean it’s 2019. Aren’t we past that yet as a society?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Some folks are,” Thom says. “But not everyone. I’m so happy to hear you both had affirming parents. But mine? I told my dad I was gay and he threw me out of the house. I was seventeen, and we didn’t talk again until I was thirty.” He looks at Evan sadly. “Everyone’s story is different… but there is a moment that all queer folks have in common. And it’s that moment, right before you say it, right before you step into your truth… That moment is terrifying. It’s so, so scary, because even if you suspect you know how they’ll respond, you can’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>know</span>
  </em>
  <span> until you say it. And once you say it… there’s no turning back. You can’t undo it. And whatever happens, you know that… the chapter of your life before you came out is over.” Thom sighs and pats Evan’s hand. “And you can’t have that moment until you’re ready.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Evan looks down at his waffle. “Connor’s sister told everyone. About us. He didn’t… He kept trying, but in the end his sister’s the one who actually did it.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ouch,” Thom says. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Alana looks sad. She looks up from her phone where she has been furiously texting.“It was pretty painful to watch.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I asked him to come with me. When I left,” Evan explains. “I thought… I guess I thought he’d come with me.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Maybe he’s just not ready,” Thom says. “It doesn’t mean he doesn’t love you. Loving you is probably why he’s been trying to come out. It just means he’s at a different part of his story. But he’ll probably see soon enough that you were right to get out of there.” He smiles. “The question is… do you still want to be there when he does?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Alana reaches out and takes Evan’s hand. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Evan squeezes it and looks at Thom, shaking his head. “What are you, like, some wise Christmas spirit? Who doles out relationship advice at a diner on Christmas Eve?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thom grins. “People who keep their diners open for the folks without a better place to go. I was just talking to Spike over there about how to get his girlfriend back. Before that, Nickie was talking to me about his mom’s Alzheimer’s.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Evan smiles at Thom. “Thank you. For listening. And for the advice. It was… Just thank you.”</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. Chapter 10</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Some apologies and a question.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Evan and Alana leave Thom a $100 tip, plus all of the spare change they had in their pockets.  Alana loops her arm through Evan’s as they leave the diner. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What do you want to do?” She asks him. “Do you want to go back?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Evan shakes his head. “No. I… I know my limits and spending more time with the Murphys isn’t something I can handle.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“And… what about Connor?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Evan shrugs. “I really don’t know,” He says. “Maybe we can talk, after the holidays, but… I just don’t see a way for us to really move forward without a change.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Alana nods. “I’m sorry. If my reaction caused you to feel pressured to… saying Connor was toxic perhaps wasn’t the most fair response. I know you love him a lot.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re okay,” Evan says. “I guess I’m not sure what to do… I don’t want to be the guy who makes him pick between me and his family. But also his family is not… Good. And I don’t feel safe around them.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Then maybe when you speak next, you tell him that,” Alana says. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah. Whenever that is.” Evan hugs Alana. “Let’s go home?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She nods. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They step out into the cold and head toward Alana’s car. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And Evan stops in his tracks. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Because Connor is standing in the parking lot, wrapped up in his jacket and a warm looking scarf, his eyes big in the darkness. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Maybe this is your chance to talk?” She says to Evan. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He looks at Connor. “How’d you know I was here?” He asks. “And please tell me you’re not tracking me too. That’s creepy.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Connor gives him a half smile. “Alana told me.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Evan looks at her, bewildered. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“This is your relationship,” Alana says. “And I want to support you in whatever you do. But it shouldn’t be my call. Please don’t let my feelings on the situation cause you to make a hasty decision simply because I’m not the most… empathetic of people.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Evan looks back at Connor. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Connor’s got his hands in his pockets. “If it’s okay… If we could talk…?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Alana presses a kiss to Evan’s cheek. “Go talk to him.” She grins. “And we should have a conversation about the plants tomorrow.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Evan frowns. “You killed them </span>
  <em>
    <span>all?</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Alana looks affronted. “Of course not.” She holds her chin up defiantly. “But there were some casualties.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Evan shakes his head. “I’m definitely never getting asked to plant sit again.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Evan,” Alana says. “Prioritize your own feelings for once in your life please.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He hugs Alana tightly. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Then, Evan takes a few cautious steps forward. Toward Connor. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Connor sucks in a deep breath. “I am. So fucking sorry. Evan, I am so sorry for everything. And I know all I’ve been doing these past few days is apologizing and… an apology without changing anything is bullshit. So I’m sorry for that too. And I swear. I </span>
  <em>
    <span>swear. </span>
  </em>
  <span>I’m done doing that.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Evan lets out a breath. “How’s that?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Connor’s shoulders slump. “I’m…” he wipes his face. “I will never do that again. I will never ever hurt you like that again.” He looks up for a brief moment. “My dad said if I left, they’d cut me off.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh,” Evan says hollowly. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So I… I cut them off. I packed my shit and left. I’m done with my parents. It’s been a long time coming and… I won’t do it anymore. They don’t want me… they want some other kid they’ve been trying to force me into being for the last twenty nine years and I’m just… so tired. I won’t do it anymore.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I would never ask you to do that,” Evan says. “You’re not wrong, they’re still here and you could still make things right -”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m not… it’s not just for you,” Connor shakes his head. Blinks a few times. “Families are supposed to love you, no matter what. And I’ve always known that mine… doesn’t. That there were conditions and obligations I was never going to be able to fulfill. They’re not my family. They’re just… not. </span>
  <em>
    <span>You</span>
  </em>
  <span> are. You’re my family. You’re the only person I’ve ever felt safe enough to be myself around and I know how much I fucked things up… but. I love you. I love you and the thing I’ve wanted from them my whole life? You give it to me every day. So. I’m done with… all of the lying and pretending.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Evan frowns. “You say that, but… I mean. There’s stuff about you that </span>
  <em>
    <span>you’ve</span>
  </em>
  <span> never told me. There’s things that I....” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I know,” Connor says, his face ashamed. “And I’m so sorry. I guess that... Part of me is still scared if </span>
  <em>
    <span>anyone </span>
  </em>
  <span>knew they’d… leave. Part of me has been scared that if I was one hundred percent honest with you, you wouldn’t want me anymore. And that’s so… unfair and bullshit of me. I should have trusted you enough to… be real with you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Evan waits. “Okay.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Connor sniffles. Wipes his face. “So. No more half truths or bullshit. Whatever you want to know… I’ll tell you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Evan nods. Turns that over in his mind. “What the hell was going on with you and Sabrina?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Connor laughs sadly. “My dad offered her money if she could help them cover up my… </span>
  <em>
    <span>tendencies. </span>
  </em>
  <span>That’s what she was telling me outside the bar last night. He offered her ten thousand dollars if she swore she wouldn’t tell anyone that I was gay. Because it would hurt my dad’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>campaign</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“And today?” Evan asks. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“She was apologizing for telling me when we were drinking,” Connor says. “And I saw you and M talking and. Fuck, I was just being an idiot. I was </span>
  <em>
    <span>jealous.</span>
  </em>
  <span> I didn’t like seeing him talking to you and making you laugh when I couldn’t and…” he shakes his head. “I’m so sorry.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Evan nods. “Your dad really wants to cover up that you’re gay that badly?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s not an attractive quality to right wing voters,” Connor says bitterly. “And I was so stupid. I should have just </span>
  <em>
    <span>said </span>
  </em>
  <span>that’s what was happening. I should have explained but…” Connor wipes his face. “I was scared that after I was such a shithead to you this week, that you…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Evan’s stomach clenches. “You were scared that I might go to him and ask for a payoff?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I know how idiotic that sounds in retrospect,” Connor says. “I know you’d never ever do that to me. But I treated you like you had anyway because I’m an insecure prick.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Connor…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He shakes his head. “No, it’s true. You don’t have to… just. It doesn’t make it </span>
  <em>
    <span>okay, </span>
  </em>
  <span>alright? I know it doesn’t make it okay.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Evan nods. “It doesn’t.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I am really sorry,” Connor says. “I… I mean it, whatever you want to know…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Were your parents really paying our rent?” Evan asks. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Connor flinches. “Yeah.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What were you doing with the money I gave you then?” Evan asks him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I put it into a savings account,” Connor says, his face red. “I didn’t… I… I fucked everything up. I don’t know how I’ll ever make it up to you, but I swear, I will. You’re too important to me. </span>
  <em>
    <span>You</span>
  </em>
  <span> are my family, Evan, and I love you so much.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Evan sighs. “You’re really done with them?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Connor nods. “Yeah. I really am.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“And you’re really okay with that?” Evan asks. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Connor looks devastated, but he nods. “I… I mean. It hurts? But. It’s hurt for a long time anyway. They’re never going to accept me the way I am, and trying to force it is going to make me more miserable.” He wipes his eyes. “I am. I’m really fucking sorry Evan. I never… I never meant for you to get hurt, but when I saw how it was hurting you, I should have gotten us out of there.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Evan reaches out and takes Connor’s hand. Connor grabs his back, his eyes misty. “So. What happens now?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Connor shrugs a little helplessly. “I just. I just want to go home. With you. If I can?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Evan looks at Connor. Really looks at him. His eyes are bright and sad. His cheeks are flushed with cold. He doesn’t look desperate and pleading like he has. He looks… like himself. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sad, but determined. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s really what you want?” Evan asks. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Please,” Connor says. “It’s the only thing I want.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Evan sighs. “We still need to talk about all of this. I can’t just… forget about this.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t expect you to,” Connor says softly. “You have been. So patient and so kind to me. Kinder than I deserve.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No,” Evan says. “Not kinder than you deserve.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A tear streaks down Connor’s face. “I love you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I love you too,” Evan says. He wraps his arms around Connor tightly and hugs him tight. “Let’s go home.”</span>
</p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <span>On Christmas morning, Evan wakes up in his bed with his boyfriend wrapped tightly around him. It’s exactly where he wants to be. Even when he’s upset with Connor, this is the place Evan wants to be. They talked for a long time when they got back last night. Connor apologized until he could hardly keep his eyes open, and Evan genuinely had to wrap him up in a hug and pull him to bed. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Connor’s eyes are already open when Evan turns to face him. He looks exhausted. Evan wonders if he even slept. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hi,” Connor says croakily. He presses his face into Evan’s neck. “I love you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I love you too.” Evan kisses his forehead. “How come you’re up?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Can’t sleep,” Connor says softly. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ll sorry,” Evan says, pressing a kiss to Connor’s hair. “What’s going on?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Connor sighs warmly against Evan’s skin. “The Facebook status.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Evan stills. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Are you really okay?” Connor asks him. “I… it’s. It scared me.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Evan takes a shaky breath. “Yeah. Mostly I’m okay.” He looks at Connor. “I mean. I see my therapist and take my meds and… I haven’t felt that way in a long time.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Connor nods. Exhales. He still looks stressed. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What about you?” Evan asks him. “Are you okay?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Connor looks at Evan carefully, his eyes guarded. He doesn’t answer. He looks unsure. Embarrassed and ashamed, like he had looked so often at his parents’ house. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Evan rubs a hand over Connor’s back in a slow circle. “It’s okay. If you’re not. Especially right now.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Connor sighs. “Sometimes, I think so. But right now? I’m not so sure.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Evan nods. “What can I do? To help?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Connor shrugs. “Just… is it okay? If I… if I’m not okay right now? While I figure some things out?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Evan smiles sympathetically. “As long as you’re honest with me, then I’ll be here.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t deserve you,” Connor says quietly. He sounds so heartbroken and guilty. Evan won’t stand it. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s not about what you deserve,” Evan says softly. “It’s just that I love you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Connor nods. Holds Evan tighter. He exhales like he’s... relieved. Evan hates to think that there have been people in Connor’s life who have told him he wasn’t allowed to need time. To not be okay. He hates to think that he’s met the people who taught him that. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Connor’s fingers settle at the edge of Evan’s t-shirt sleeve. He draws in a breath, his fingers pinching the fabric. Evan waits. “I… when I was a teenager? Things got. Pretty bad,” Connor says quietly in this halting voice. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Evan sweeps his hand down Connor’s back slowly. He waits for him to settle. To feel safe enough to go on. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I was… sort of a mess?” Connor says with this sort of hollow laugh. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Evan just keeps rubbing his hand gently up and down Connor’s spine. Gentle brush up the spine, firmer sweep down. Beneath his fingers, Evan feels the bones in Connor’s spine shifting with uncertain energy. “What do you mean?” Evan asks him quietly. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Connor sucks in a soft breath. “I. Was dating Miguel, but nobody </span>
  <em>
    <span>knew. </span>
  </em>
  <span>And we were both messed up in our own special ways so… it started with some pot from time to time. Getting drunk at parties, drunk enough that nobody wondered where we ended up to. Nobody noticed us disappearing off together. But. Then it was pot before school and drinking right after. Then I was popping Larry’s pain meds and sleeping through classes… well my folks caught on before long.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Evan nods. “That must have been hard. Keeping a secret like that.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Connor says softly. “And I kept… it was like. I couldn’t talk to anyone about it. Miguel had his own shit with his family, and mine… by the time they acknowledged what was happening, things were. Not good. I was popping pills to keep from feeling sick and they. Hushed the whole thing up. Sent me away to deal with it and…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Evan presses a kiss to Connor’s hair. Waits for him to continue. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It was my idea. For him and I to, like. Publicly date girls?” Connor sniffs. “Which was a dick move. He wanted us to just… own up, but I was scared if my folks found out…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Evan says. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“And like. The mono thing is when it all kind of came to a head. Because. Like. Sabrina </span>
  <em>
    <span>knew. </span>
  </em>
  <span>She had to have known. And I was convinced, like, convinced she was going to tell everyone and my family was going to disown me and I… I couldn’t deal. So I… I went home the day after Sabrina and Harper demanded to know how we all got sick, and I  took a bottle of sleeping pills.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Evan kisses his hair again. “Connor I’m so sorry.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“They told everyone I was just out with mono,” Connor says hollowly. “And my dad told me that suicide was a cowardly thing and… we never talked about it again.” Connor exhales heavily. “We’ve never really…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That sounds so painful,” Evan says softly. He runs his fingers through Connor’s hair. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I am so sorry,” Connor says after a long silence. “That I brought up your mom. I’m so fucking sorry.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Evan pulls Connor in close, holding him tightly. “I… I mean. I get it,” he says finally. “Sometimes, it’s… god this is horrible to say? But. It wasn’t always easy to talk to her about… like. Mental health stuff? So in some ways, like, I got off more easily. Because she’s not around. So I only have to remember the good stuff. I can pretend like the times when it felt like she wasn’t hearing me or just wanted me to be normal didn’t exist….” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Connor presses a kiss to Evan’s cheek. “That’s got to be hard.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I miss her a lot,” Evan says. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I wish I had gotten to meet her,” Connor says softly. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Me too,” Evan says. “She would have loved you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Connor looks unsure. “Probably not right now,” he says, hiding his face. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Evan kisses him. “She would. She would have loved you because you love me.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Connor hugs Evan tighter. “I love you so much. And I am so sorry about this Christmas.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Evan nods. “I love you too. Maybe next year we’ll do our own thing.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Chrismakkuh?” Connor says with a grin. “I’d be down to learn to make some latkes.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Evan smiles.</span>
</p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <span>They eventually climb out of bed, yawning and stretching. Evan puts on some coffee and Connor makes breakfast for them. They exchange gifts and laugh a whole lot because they got each other the same book. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So there’s one more thing,” Evan says softly. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Connor looks at him uncertainly. “You didn’t need to… after everything…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hush,” Evan says. Connor falls quiet. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He goes into his bag and pulls out the ring box. Connor is still sitting on the sofa when Evan comes back, his eyes searching. “What’s going on?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Evan comes closer and then kneels down in front of Connor. Connor’s eyes go huge and glassy. “What are you doing?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Evan smiles a bit. “You were right. When you said that I’m you’re family. And you’re mine. You’re my family. So… if you’ll have me, I’d like to make it official.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“After everything?” Connor asks tearfully. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I love you,” Evan says. “Will you marry me?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A tear streaks down Connor’s face. “Yes. Absolutely. Yes.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Connor kisses him fiercely and he and Evan just hold each other on their knees for a long time, kissing and crying and laughing a little. Evan wipes Connor’s cheek gently with his fun. Kisses the place where his thumb was. “I love you. I love you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Evan slips the ring on Connor’s finger. Connor smiles down at it, and Evan explains. “I had it made especially. The gold is from a pair of my mom’s earrings.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Connor blinks a few times rapidly. “I love it. I love you. I love you so damn much.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Connor all but drags Evan back upstairs, kissing him everywhere he can reach. They spend the rest of the morning in bed, celebrating their engagement naked. They doze and cuddle and fuck, then lather, rinse, repeat. It’s not until the early afternoon that they pull themselves out of bed. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They’re in the process of pulling together something to eat for lunch when the doorbell rings. Evan and Connor look at each other, exchanging looks of confusion. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I didn’t ask anyone to come over,” Connor says. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Me either,” Evan says, moving to the door. He pulls it open and blinks a few times in surprise because Zoe is on the other side. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hi,” Zoe says awkwardly. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hi,” Evan echoes. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Is… I… Connor?” Zoe’s face is red. She looks embarrassed. She clears her throat. “Is Connor here?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Evan turns to see Connor behind him. His face is white. He looks shocked. “Zo?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She straightens out her shoulders. “Uh. Hey. Merry Christmas,” she says quietly. “I just. I wanted to apologize. About yesterday. That was… things got out of hand and I’m really sorry that I behaved the way I did. It wasn’t okay of me to put you in that position.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Connor grabs Evan’s hand. Looks at him for a moment. “Me too. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have… it wasn’t right of me to throw you under the bus like that.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Zoe nods. “Well. I hope you enjoy the rest of the holiday-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Wait, Zo?” Connor says quietly. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We’re uh… Evan and I are engaged. He asked me to marry him.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Zoe smiles. “Yeah?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Evan nods. Connor too. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well. Congratulations. I’m really happy for you guys.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Thank you,” Evan tells her. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Zoe waves goodbye. Connor and Evan close the door after her. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Connor pulls Evan into a tight hug. “I love you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I love you,” Evan says. “Was that okay?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Connor takes a shaky breath. “No. But maybe someday it will be.”</span>
</p>
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